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xxmyhomexx · 9 months

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SONG OF THE CRIMSON NILE: Stop Home

Another Amen one because I am in an unhealthy CHOKEHOLD for this man. That is all. This is a modern AU and has no connection to the game! IT IS ALSO NSFW, intended for older readers.

~~~

Amen runs his own company, and Eva works under him as his PA. He is quite intimidating, and everyone who works under him respects him. Eva gets along well with all the employees, and Amen finds himself drawn to her.

One night, the business throws Agnia a birthday party there. There is music, dancing, and plenty of food. Eva, Isman, Ramesses, and Dia are invited, and they have a great time. Amen stays, but after an hour or so, he retreats home. Eva looks around for him, noticing he has disappeared. Agnia stops next to her, lightly elbowing her.

"Looking for the boss?" She smiles.

Eva's face crimsons. "No! I was, uh...j-just..."

"He doesn't like being around a lot of people after awhile. He likes his peace and quiet."

Those words pull at her heartstrings. He may be scary and a perfectionist, but she hoped he was all right. She looked down at the birthday cake she made personally for Agnia: marble, a perfect blend of vanilla and chocolate. She plucked a slice out, gathered a small box and plate, and tucked it in her hands. If Amen was hungry, she couldn't let him starve.

"Excuse me, I'm going to call it a night myself. I'm quite tired."

Agnia knows it isn't true. "Planning on taking him a slice of cake?"

Eva glared at her, but her face crimsoned and she smirked. Agnia laughs and tells her the shortest way to his house, even though Eva already knew a way.

During the drive, she came upon the prairie house. It was big, too big for just one person, but her co-workers always mentioned he liked a lot of space for himself. She saw his Mercedes outside the three-car garage, pulling her Beetle next to it. She gathered the box in her hands, and took the three steps up to the big, black door, ringing the bell.

She stood there patiently, her blue dress flowing in the breeze. Her dark curls fanned her face, causing her to run one hand through her hair. She was nervous, and her heart sank into her stomach.

"What am I doing?" She thought. "You can do this. Just give him the cake, and be on your way."

More waiting caused her fear to heighten. "Yeah, fuck this, I'm out."

She turned on her heels and headed back to her car, when the porchlights blinded her vision and the front door opened. Her heartrate skyrocketed, and she turned around to see the man before her, and instead of fear, another kind of heat burned in her lower core.

Amen was almost taller than the door, staring back at Eva wearing the same fitted shirts he always wore to work: hugging his muscles so that she could see the outline of EVERYTHING that was beautiful. He quirked a brow.

"Evthys?" His deep voice rumbled in her ears. "What are you doing here?"

Eva tugged the collar of her dress. "Uh...I was just on my way home, and I wanted to stop by and see if you...wanted some cake."

She walked back up the steps and handed him the box. She gulped, hoping that he wouldn't notice how red her face was. He looked down at the box in amusement, and accepted it. He opened it and noticed a pink and white coated cake slice. He scoffed and closed the box.

"For me? You shouldn't have," he smirked.

"It's no big deal," Eva sucked in a breath. "Well, if that's all, I'll say goodnight."

She turned on her feet and was about to hightail it on home until Amen cleared his throat.

"Why so soon?" He leaned against the doorframe. "It's still early tonight."

Eva turned around to face him once more. She saw his firm expression, waiting patiently for her answer. Wordlessly she nodded and entered the house.

~~~

In the living room, Amen swirled a piece of cake on a fork and plopped it in his mouth. The vanilla and chocolate mixed well together, melting on his tongue. It was pleasant, his brows pulling together in that pointed stare that made her blush.

"Hard to believe you made this yourself," he plucked another piece on his fork. "It's suprising."

"I love baking sweets," Eva grins proudly. "Isman and I always used his mom's kitchen."

"You must've knocked out her tastebuds," Amen noted.

"Well, according to my friends, I can knock out anyone's tastebuds," she giggled.

"Really?" Amen pointed the fork at her. "Try it yourself."

Eva tried to take it from his hand, but he started to draw it back toward him. She tried again, but he did the same move, smirking.

At first she didn't understand, until she did and her cheeks flames ten times their color. When Amen saw she caught on, he offered her the fork again.

She hissed in a breath and inched closer, slowly but surely getting almost into forbidden territory. Was it forbidden, though? Amen held it out in front of him, Eva rising to his level stretching her neck. Their faces were mere inches apart, separated by a piece of marbled cake. He twirled it in his fingers, enticing her to take a bite.

Eva parted her lips, and Amen dipped it in her mouth. The chocolate and vanilla melted together like butter, sliding down her throat. He plucked another piece off, fed it to her, and she chewed slowly. Indeed, her own baking surprised her, sweet and lush frosting mixed with cake.

Her breath hitched in her throat. She locked her knees together, her eyes half-lidded as she sat there silent. Amen lowered the fork and brushed a strand of hair away.

"Delicious?"

"Yes." Eva whispered.

"Good."

He observed her fully. She had pretty lips, full ready to be kissed and bitten. Her eyes were expressive, her chest heaving and her hair fanning in waves. She had no makeup on, not that she needed it anyway because she was a stunning, natural beauty, a woman Amen preferred to those with obvious plastic surgery.

"I'm..." Eva snapped back to reality, backing away a bit. "I'm sorry, I...I was unprofessional."

"Why?" Amen tilted his head.

"I'm your PA," her gaze turned to the fireplace.

"Sweetheart," Amen shook his head. "You could never do wrong."

Eva stayed silent as he leaned in closer to her, causing her to lean back on the couch. She watched again at a loss for words.

"If you were unprofessional," Amen twirled a lock of hair around his fingers. "I would've fired you on the spot. But you...you're different."

He inhaled her scent. Pomegranate, his favorite fruit, the sweet scent of her shampoo. He turned back to the table, picked up the fork with the last remaining slice of cake, and slid it in his mouth. Eva watched in awe at the flexing of his jaw when he chewed, and the way he swallowed.

He sat back down, pulling her on top of him. She was like jelly, kicking off her clogs to steady herself. He was hard in muscle and height than her, but on his lap, they met at eye level. She was a snug fit, like two puzzle pieces that were an unexpected match. Her hands rested on his biceps.

Amen needed her, he wanted to touch her. He took his chance, he couldn't get enough of her, and by having this woman he yearned for on his lap, she was his. She didn't protest, he saw it in her eyes. She wanted him just as he did her, and he wasn't going to waste time anymore.

He brought her head down closer, his breath hot on her mouth. Eva shook as she gripped his sleeves tighter. No one had ever turned her on this bad, especially her own boss. Lines were blurred, remembering his company didn't forbid employees from romantic relationships.

Amen tipped her chin down, running his thumb across her parted lips.

"Oh..." she whimpered.

"You're so gorgeous," he whispered. He inhaled her scent once more, exhaling in a long sigh. Their noses touched, Amen brushing his cheek against hers. Her face burned in color, and she moved her hands from his arms to his shoulders.

"Evthys," Amen cupped her head with one hand on the back. "Kiss me."

And she did, pressing her lips against his softly. He threaded his fingers through her hair, deepening the kiss. His tongue slipped in her mouth, exploring timelessly. He tasted her, every inch of her palette and tongue dancing against his. When they broke apart, his lips found the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Oh, God..." she moaned.

His lips continued, across her bare chest and collarblades. His touch was feathery, hitting all the right places. She leaned back to gift him with further access, clutching his knees for support.

"Do you like this, sweetheart?" Amen asked.

"Yes," Eva gasped.

"Tell me..." Amen continued his torture, pecking at her most sensitive places. "If you want this."

"More than anything."

He stopped and looked at her.

"Then allow me."

He lifted her off the floor, standing behind her, still kissing the crook of her neck.

"Your room. Take me...please," Eva begged.

He lead her across the hall, upstairs to his master bedroom. When he slammed the door, he pinned her to the wall. Eva fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, undoing each one. He never stopped kissing her as he threw it to the floor, breaking away and shoving her around. Her stomach hit the marble wall as he unzipped her dress, pulling it down over her until she kicked it aside. He kissed a trail up her back, unclasping her bralette and sliding the rest of her garments to the floor. She moaned at the way his hands worked their magic, and the hot feeling of his lips, tongue and teeth nipping and sucking.

"Agh!" she gasped. She heard the sound of his pants hitting the floor before one meaty palm gripped her left breast, kneading while the other slipped between her legs, his fingers working wonders, diving into endless fantasies.

"Your body is devine," Amen praised her. "My beautiful, beautiful neferut."

"Keep going," Eva pleaded. "Yes, like that. Oh, Amen!"

"Those moans," he gently bit down on her earlobe. "Good girl."

She turned around and slipped her tongue between his teeth, trying to dominate his mouth. He tasted wonderful as he bit and sucked on her lips, leaving them swollen and tingling. He licked his lips, smirking as she whimpered and groaned. He dragged her from the wall toward his bed, earning him a yelp when her back hit the mattress. It creaked under the weight when he climbed on top of her, burying his face inside her.

"Mmmm..." Eva moaned. He leaned in toward her, kissing his way up her navel. His tongue snaked over every inch, across her ribs and the sensitive area of her ridgeline. She arched her back as his lips and teeth stopped at the base of her throat.

"Please," she begged. "I want you, Amen."

"Tell me..." he spoke between kisses. "Tell me how much."

"I need you."

At those words, he pinned her wrists above her head and lined himself up. When she nodded, he kissed her and slipped between her walls. Eva yelped, burying her head in his shoulder. He was big, but not too huge. His muscles were hard against her, and she used this moment to slide her arms around his back. The grooves and muscles, he was built like a bodybuilder, or a military tank. They moved from his back to his front, across his abs, pectorals, before wrapping around his neck.

"Ugnh!" She winced, clutching the pillows as they moved in unison. "So fast..."

"Fast?" Amen quirked a brow. When he slowed down, Eva flipped herself on her stomach, arching her back for more of him. She wanted it to last as long as it could, flinging herself up.

Amen wrapped one arm around her breasts, the other down her stomach. His thrusts were deep, to the point where she could feel him all the way. Her back against his stomach, she moaned with each slick of pleasure in her core.

"Oh, God!" She groaned. "I'm..."

"Me, too. Don't hold back, sweet girl," he commanded. With that final jerk, Eva cried out, collapsing in a pillow. Amen hissed as he finished, balancing himself so he didn't crush her.

Eva's body rippled with pleasant shivers. Amen gathered her in his arms and pulled her close. "You ok?"

"Yes," Eva sighed. "Better than ok."

Smiling, he watched as she lay her head on his chest. She trailed her nails across it, watching in awe as it heaved up and down.

"Are you sore?"

She shook her head. "No, just shaky."

Amen chuckled. "Couldn't handle my thanks for the cake?"

Eva eyerolled. "I could! But you could've just told me instead."

Amen just smiled and pressed his lips against hers, both drifting into a sleep that took them deep into the night.

#romance club #rc evthys #rc amen #song of the crimson nile

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epilogue-and-prologue · 2 years

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Falling - I - How You Get To Know Each Other

A story I had in my WIP for the last few months and in my head since seeing the Old Guard.

Booker x Female Reader!with a sister

Warnings: Throughout the story mention of depressive behaviour, endangerment of others and one self, two sisters relationship, smut at some point but it will be signalled, loneliness and angst at first and during, speaking in French because I CAN.

You’re drenched and Ophelia too.

She was laughing as much as she could seeing you desperately trying to cover yourself with your jacket over your head outside the school. You were laughing too. You’re still both laughing when you enter the building. It’s the most startling sound he’s heard for weeks.

He’s checking his mail. Nothing in the small box. He smiled curtly and left.

He hasn’t been talking to a lot of neighbours.

Except you. Except for your sister, Ophelia.

He knows your name too but never says it aloud. He always stays very polite and gentle. A perfect Englishman with somewhat nothing of the classic tailored Englishman.

You went back home and thought nothing of it.

You knocked on his door.

It took a few seconds before you heard keys shuffling and the door slowly opened.

He’s a little dishevelled and visibly sweating.

“Hi! Oh… I’m sorry did we catch you at a bad time? -No not at all.”

He frowned.

“Do you need anything?”

You took a deep breath, biting your lip. His eyes followed yours as you lowered them down for a moment before turning to Ophelia.

“Uhm…Yeah. We were about to make crepes but we don’t have any flour. Do you happen to have any? We would repay you for it. -I don’t know… Just let me check.”

He disappeared from the entrance for a second, leaving the door ajar. You couldn’t see inside the darkness swallowing everything whole. You did not have time to think about it before he came back with a half bag of flour.

“I’m sorry I don’t have more. And don’t worry, you can keep it. -Oh. Well, thank you. We’ll be bringing back crepes as soon as we’re finished. -You don’t have to. -She really wants to though.”

Ophelia looks at you, her 15 years making her too tall for your taste. She could crush you in a hug and take from the cupboard you couldn’t reach and make you want to crawl into a mouse’s hole and never leave it, in no time.

You coughed, a little embarrassed.

“Anyways, hum, thanks for the flour.

-Anytime.”

You stood there awkwardly for a second before your sister took the flour from his hands and waved him goodbye. He closed the door right behind you a tug at the corner of his lips making him think that he might have smiled a little. He hadn’t smiled in so long.

He could hear you banter with your sister a little before closing your front door.

You did deliver him those crepes a little later in the night. You could see his television lighting up the living room in blue hues. In the dark, he seemed so much more tired than earlier. You could see the span of his face marked by memories you knew nothing about, the way his body blocked the entrance to his place, the way he quietly thanked you and wished you a goodnight, waiting for you to leave before closing his door. As he did before. You left and he then closed the door. Maybe not to be rude and close the door in your face? You were pretty sure he would have done that in an instant had it been not considered rude to do so.

You had seen him hold the door for the young mother living downstairs with her stroller. He didn’t even look her in the eyes, just responding to her thanks with a tight smile and not even wishing her a good night. He was a loner. Nobody in the building knew his name. The name on the mailbox was Booker. No first name.

Just your clean plate on your doorstep the next morning with neat words on a piece of paper.

Thank you

Ophelia passed him by on the stairs.

“I think I heard him talk on the phone with someone named Nile.

-Oh. Ok. Did you do your homework? “

She heaves a sigh.

“You’re really going to dodge the ball on this one?”

You looked her straight in the eyes.

“This man is trouble. I can feel it.

-He’s also very fuckable. -‘Lia! -What?”

Her face was somewhat innocent but you knew better. She finished cleaning the dishes before ditching to her room. You smiled fondly at her attempt though. She was a little bit too worried about you sometimes.

You passed him by on the stairs.

You had just arrived back from work. You greeted him and he barely responded to you, his eyes a bit out of there, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. How’s Andy?”

The person on the phone gave him a short answer. He hummed softly. You could see his whole demeanour change, his hand running through his hair, his figure standing a little taller. You reached your floor as he climbed back the stairs.

You looked at him, your eyes taking in the whole new energy coming off of him. Something lighter? Probably. Just less rough than the last time you had seen him.

He caught you though. Surprised, a bit startled maybe, his mouth slightly agape by it. He licked his lips and you felt the place increasingly getting hotter with embarrassment by the second.

You fumbled with your keys and got into your apartment.

You didn’t mention it to Ophelia.

Your mind made it out to be nothing.

It wasn’t.

He knocks on your door.

It is a surprise. Something you haven’t expected. It is a Sunday. You heard the bells going on somewhere near and had wondered who would be foolish enough to get married. Or to even celebrate anything. Ophelia spent the night at her friends’ house, the flat is empty. Luckily.

He seems a bit out of sorts, both his hands pressing against the doorframe. Cheeks flushed by what you smell as alcohol on his breath. You grimace. He flinches.

“I’m sorry… I… shouldn’t be here.”

His eyes dart to yours before his arms fall back to his side. He is hovering on your doorstep, like a ghost whose purpose is lost to them. He can’t quite decide to leave or to ask for what he needs.

You lick your lips silently, your hand still on the doorknob. You are about to close the door when you notice blood on his hands. His knuckles were cradled into his palms, his fingers red.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

Your anguished question hits him like a ton of bricks. He steps back. Looks at his hands. Hides them in his pockets. His head was low. Searches for his keys. Opens the door to his flat. And leaves you there, a ball of anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

You can’t sleep properly for the next week.

#the old guard fanfiction #booker x reader #booker x female reader #sebastien le livre x reader #sebastien le livre x female reader #the old guard #tw: depression #series: falling

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bookgeekgrrl · 2 years

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My media this week (19-25 Jun 2022)

ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶦᵐᵐᵒʳᵗᵃˡ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵒᵒʳ 'ᵇᵃᵇʸᵍᶦʳˡ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒ ʰᵒᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶦⁿˢᵗᶦⁿᶜᵗˢ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒ ᵇᵃᵈ'

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

😍 Fete For A King (Shivadhverse #1) (Sam Starbuck) - cannot express how much I love this entire universe!!!! This book started as a 'what if there was a hallmark movie where a guy-fieri-like celebrity chef fell for the crown-prince-soon-to-be-king?' - it's sweet and fucking hilarious and very low angst and all the characters are amazing

😍 Infinite Jes (Shivadhverse #2) (Sam Starbuck) - 2nd book in the same universe; a recently retired ex-king at loose ends decides to start a podcast and ends up acquiring more loved ones in the form of a nonbinary producer and their 15-yr-old apprentice/son/disaster magnet

😍 👂‍ The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes (The Queer Principles of Kit Webb #2) (Cat Sebastian, author; Joel Leslie, narrator) - fuck, I knew I was going to fucking love Marian Hayes and I wasn't disappointed; give me a prickly, angry romance heroine every day and someone who loves her because their jagged edges fit together

😍 Ain't No Grave (Can Keep My Body Down) (spitandvinegar) - reread, absolute five-star forever fave; always enamoured of the idea that a broken, junkie recovering-from-hydra former asset would find enough of bucky barnes left to adopt two queer homeless kids; all the characterizations in this are incredible

😊 👂‍ Death in the Clouds (Hercule Poirot #13) (Agatha Christie, author; Hugh Fraser, narrator)

😊 Sweet Berries (Cambric Creek #2) (C.M. Nascosta) - mothman monsterfucking romance, very enjoyable

😊 👂‍ Enter the Saint (Simon Templar 'The Saint' #3) (Leslie Charteris, author; John Telfer, narrator) - surprisingly fun action adventure story; what little I knew of The Saint was from the solo hero he would later develop into - I enjoyed this early stuff where he's the leader of a vigilante gang of Bright Young Things

🙂 Dear Mona Lisa… (Claire Davis & Al Stewart) - short novella about a middle-aged synesthete trying to find the right way to come out to his daughter before his impending wedding

💖💖 +311K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

Me and the Lavender Moon (emchant3d) - MCU: shrunkyclunks, 10K - another fantastic part of this series about nonbinary kitchen witch bucky & cap!Steve - really love this entire series so much

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Fire Island - just as amazing and wonderful on the rewatch; nothing but pure serotonin

Legends of Tomorrow - s6, e8-13

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

99% Invisible #496 - The Rights of Rice and Future of Nature

Twenty Thousand Hertz+ - Breathe

Shedunnit - Bonus: Ask Me Anything Part Two

Strong Songs Bonus Episodes - "Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)" by Kate Bush

Hit Parade - These Are the Good Times

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Fire Island Movie Soundtrack playlist

Presenting Janet Jackson

Women Who Owned '99

Gotta Get Away!

Pride Anthems

Summer Ska Celebration

Lazy Summer

Presenting Reba McEntire

Up All Night with Nile Rodgers

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kimmimaru · 1 year

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This is a ridiculous and rambling, nonsensical post and I’m sorry for it, but I have a lot of stupid late night thoughts I need to write down just to stop it from circling my head. So I’m sticking it on my blog. It’s under a cut so it doesn’t burden anyone’s dash. No joke, little of this makes any sense, it’s essentially just there for my own purposes but obviously if you really want to read you can, just don’t expect to understand it, because I don’t lol.

I am still awake at 3am. Mostly can’t sleep because my brain is torturing me, won’t shut the fuck up. So I’m here, on tumblr, making it worse. I am having bad times obsessing over my own artistic talents and wondering what the fuck I’m going to do because I feel weirdly restless, like there’s something I should be doing but I can’t work out HOW. Like I need to get my fucking life together. I know there’s no time-limit but I dunno...I’m feeling more and more like there IS and it’s weird and unsettling. When I was a kid literally the only thing I wanted to do when I grew up (other than become a Jedi) was draw or paint. Arty things are the only things I’m even remotely good at. But I can’t sell anything I make, no matter what I do. So my brain goes; well, you’re just not good enough! And I know I’m good, I just think maybe I’m not good ENOUGH. Which is annoying because what the fuck even IS good enough? I enter competitions and my work doesn’t even get displayed, I don’t care much about winning, but it would have been nice if people could have seen the fucking work. But nope. I’m 35 and the only perfect thing I’ve ever ‘made’ is my daughter (yes, ok she’s not perfect to everyone but she is to ME). I just wish I could give her more. Having lost my mum (nearly a year ago now) it started dawning on me that I need to leave her something, I don’t want to leave her with nothing but burdens. I know, my mother didn’t mean to, she had plans and stuff but it happened and now my siblings and I are struggling to get shit done and it’s weighing everyone down. And the same thing will happen to my daughter as well and I HATE myself for it. I feel like I’ve wasted my life, which is stupid but feelings are feelings. I’ll admit, when I was young I wanted to be famous. I’ve always felt weirdly panicky about dying and being forgotten. It’s hard to explain, death doesn’t scare me, at least my own doesn’t. It’s inevitable. But I wanted to leave behind something. I don’t want to just disappear, if that makes sense. My hope was I could do that through my art. Art lasts. And yes, I have a child who could be considered me leaving something of myself behind but she’s not me, I don’t want her to be me. I want her to be herself. Make her own mark on the world in her own way. What I WANT to do is go back to uni. I want to study, finally get the degree I fucked up last time around but that costs too much. I want to set up somewhere to sell my art work. I want to travel to more places, although I’ve been to Greece and seen mount Olympus, I’ve been in a hot air balloon over the Nile in Egypt as the sun rose, I’ve been to Bulgaria, skinny dipped in France and seen the remnants of the Berlin wall in Germany (I’ve obviously been to Scotland, Wales, Cornwall and Ireland too) but the world is big and I want to see more places. I want to go to Italy, Japan, Norway and as many other places as I can. But at this point I doubt I ever will. Essentially I’m just lamenting all the shit I could be doing but can’t because money. Same as everyone else I suppose. Anyway, my mum believed in reincarnation and that every time someone is reincarnated they do so to learn something in this new life, but I have to wonder wtf I’m supposed to be learning here because so far it’s not clear at all. Maybe it isn’t supposed to be clear but a nudge in the right direction would help a lot.

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monstermaster13 · 9 months

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Corey and Oats in…

An Aykroydian Horror Story Adventure.

Corey and Oats along with Mel had a friend named Nathan who was a shapeshifter who could turn into anyone, but his powers were very complicated as sometimes he could transform at will and sometimes he’d transform at night and sometimes he’d transform whenever he was scared or in dark places…but one alter-ego of Nathan’s that had developed a cult following of his own was Dan the Were-Aykroyd who was of course a Were-Aykroyd who could become any of Dan Aykroyd’s live-action characters and even could turn into the form of Nathan to fool his enemies, of course this Were-Aykroyd had developed over the course of Nathan’s stay on the discord server Simp Central. But earlier this month Nathan had gotten dumped from the server due to discourse with a rival member named Stephanie, luckily though…she had been taught a lesson thanks to Dan Aykroyd and Eucalyptus.

Now everyone’s favorite Were-Aykroyd was moving in with Werebelushi in Shades and also with Mel along with Corey and Oats, finally he had decided to leave the server and do new adventures on his own without the people on there. That is when of course he met Werebelushi In Shades, basically Werebelushi was out fighting a demon when he encountered his Aykroydian counterpart also doing a bit of monster hunting.

Werebelushi immediately took notice of him….’Nice moves there, especially the decapitation.’ ‘You’ve got some pretty slick moves yourself…the name’s Dan.’ ‘You can call me Matthias.’ ‘Ah, so you’re Werebelushi In Shades. I watch your Youtube videos all the time.’ ‘Wait, you know my work?’ ‘Know it? I love it, your rants are awesome, especially when you unleash your powers on villains like that.’ ‘Thanks, well you know that bad movies are scum.’ ‘Indeed they are.’ ‘So what are you doing here?’ ‘Well thanks to discourse from the last episode involving Nathan’s old rival from the Simp Central server, Nathan isn’t a member anymore and neither am I since I decided to quit but I have decided to focus on helping him, and my brothers are going to help.’

“You mean those Aykroyd characters you hang out with?”

“Oh you bet.”

“Sounds awesome.”

Our favorite duo Corey and Oats were sitting around in their house in Nile Road, having all sorts of fun together when they heard Nathan enter, he and Matthias/Werebelushi walked into the house and looked around. ‘Mel!’ Nathan exclaimed as he hugged her. ‘Nate!’ Mel responded as she hugged him back. ‘How are Corey and Oatsie?’ ‘They’ve been going on a lot of adventures.’ ‘Glad to hear that. So what are you two up to today?’ ‘Oh, we are about to have another adventure.’

“Yeah, we hope it is going to be another awesome one.”

“Oh don’t worry, we are going to have an awesome one.”

“Do you mind if we tag along?’

“Of course not, the more the merrier.”

The duo entered the bedroom with Mel, Matthias and Nathan as the group were shown around and Corey pulled out an item from the box that was a wish-granter. ‘This here item is a wish-granter, when we wish for an adventure to happen he will grant it for us in a magical way and he will grant you it for you.’ ‘Perfect.’ Werebelushi in Shades responded…’Do you think he can give us a horror adventure with an Aykroydian influence? I've always wanted to meet Dan Aykroyd and also meet Nathan’s Were-Aykroyd alter-ego again.’ ‘Sure, oh wish-granter, we wish for a horror adventure with an Aykroyd influence, can you grant that wish for us?’ ‘I sure can.’

The wish-granter’s eyes gave off a supernatural glow as the entire house began to take on a different style and vibe, becoming very much in the style of an 80s horror movie, as they looked around and saw monsters emerging from the shadows. ‘It worked, come on, let’s do it.’ ‘Yeah, let’s take a look around.’ Matthias/Werebelushi walked down the hallways and saw quite a few interesting scenarios, each of them were quite horrific. He saw what appeared to be the Tall-Man from the Phantasm franchise with Angela Baker from Sleepaway Camp, and in another room he spotted Jack Torrance and Leatherface. Meanwhile Mel spotted her best friend Eucalyptus along with Sweeney Todd and Pinhead, and Oats saw Angela from Night of the Demons along with Mary Lou from Prom Night.

Mel heard Camela screaming as a demon emerged from the fridge and possessed her, while the unicorns Whinnius, Daenisha, and Kazam were keeping the room safe. Little Oats whinnied in fright when he saw ghostly horses floating around, but his big brother came to his rescue, he hugged his brother. Nathan explored all of the rooms, looking around the place and encountering scares based on his visions and dreams, including one where he saw a version of himself peeling at his face to reveal Dan Aykroyd underneath, one scene where he saw a version of his Were-Aykroyd persona with long hair and sharp teeth as well as blood on the sides of his mouth. He approached this version of his persona. ‘Dan, what are you doing here?’ ‘Hiding…clearly those people I thought loved me now hate me and view me as a freak.’ ‘You are weird, yes but screw what those people think of you, you’re awesome. I wouldn’t have had the confidence to be who I am without you. I’ve always had to hide my secret from others, because i’m afraid they’d be ashamed of me if I told them that I am a were-Aykroyd. But you, you gave me confidence.’

“I did? Well of course I did. I knew you had it in you.”

“Naturally because you’re so extremely intelligent and all.”

Corey and Oats wandered down the hallway and over to the lounge where they saw what appeared to be mutant fish-monsters watching television. Corey went over to where the fish-monsters were and waved to them before dipping his hand in some ooze which mutated him, turning him into an 80s horror version of his ‘mutated’ form. Oats saw a floating black dress which swirled around and wrapped around him, turning him into a gothic pony princess.

Matthias/Werebelushi fought off demons with Mel as the duo explored the house, and encountered all sorts of monsters. Nathan walked into the bedroom before looking around and he saw a Haunted Mansion style portrait of himself turning into Dan Aykroyd’s character from the Twilight Zone movie. Corey wandered around in his mutant form for a little bit, exploring and checking out the powers that came out with his mutant form.

Nathan didn’t feel afraid of anything that was happening, not even as Mel levitated in mid air and became possessed, meanwhile Oats was worried. ‘Mommy, are you okay?’ ‘I’m alright Oatsie, I just got possessed.’ ‘You’re not evil are you, mommy?’ ‘Of course not.’

“So when is Dan Aykroyd going to show up?”

“Right about now.”

The duo turned around and they saw Dan Aykroyd himself materializing through some smoke, he coughed for a little bit before greeting the two of them. ‘Salutations Corey, Salutations Oats. How are you two doing?’ ‘Great, thanks for asking and welcome to our haunted home Danny.’ ‘This place looks fun, let’s see what kind of monsters and creatures lurk in this facility.’

Danny got out his torch and his ghost hunting equipment as the duo followed him along with Matthias, Nathan and Mel, and together they all went to see if there were any supernatural creatures and they encountered all sorts of monsters. Nathan was doing very well up until he got into a corner of the bedroom that was completely dark and then he started to feel uneasy, his eyes giving off a supernatural glow. ‘Oh boy…here we go.’

“Dan, I think you should know something about Nathan.”

“Oh I know all right, after all…all horror stories have a twist.”

Nathan gulped a little as he tripped over but he got back up to see brown hairs creeping up his arm and on his hands, which were enlarging and broadening as his skin matured, his chest and torso broadened as brown hairs developed on there as well, his stomach inflated and he felt some of the hairs that were on his chest and on his stomach, a few buttons popped off his shirt but his shirt didn’t rip, his back and shoulders broadened. ‘Sorry that you have to see this Dan, hope you don’t mind stuff like this.’ ‘Are you kidding? A real life shapeshifter…this is beyond fantastic.’

He blushed as his legs altered and his rear plumped up, and in a way…yes that did read like something erotic but not overly pornographic, he purred as he felt his rear. ‘You see Dan, I cannot help it if this happens because.’ His height shot out up to 6’1 as his feet shifted, two toes sticking together on both toes and giving him the appearance of having webbed toes. To his surprise Dan himself didn’t seem to be freaking out, in fact he was taking notes.

Nathan chuckled to himself as he was glad Dan wasn’t freaking out or calling him a creep…’You seem to not think this is weird at all.’ ‘When you’ve seen as many weird things as me you learn that what others view as normal doesn’t apply to you since there is no real definition of what normal is, and it is my opinion that normal doesn’t have a definition.’ Corey was amazed at this and was relieved…’So you don’t think he’s a creep for turning into you?’ ‘Why would I think that? I have been watching his adventures and your adventures too for a long time and well…they’re just as awesome in person as they are in written and episode form.’

“Wait, you watch our adventures?”

“On a regular basis. My favorites are the halloween specials and of course the horror museum and Nothingvile.”

“You’re a fan of our adventures, Dan?”

“Oh naturally, of course.”

Nathan looked over at Dan as his hair darkened and his brow altered, his eyebrows thickening as one eye turned green and the other remained brown. His nose broadened and developed a cleft in the middle as his appearance shifted until he looked perfectly Aykroydian, his hair grew a little bit longer as his voice contorted and altered to match his appearance, becoming like Dan’s voice.’Dan, you seem to enjoy this.’ ‘Well of course, I always look forward to seeing him.’

When Nathan’s transformation completed itself, he looked over at himself and chuckled…’Sorry you had to see this.’ ‘Don’t be sorry, man…this is awesome! I mean i’ve always wanted to see this alter-ego of yours up close.’

“

“You know Nathan’s a Were-Aykroyd, Dan?”

“Well yes, of course I do. Who do you think is the one that inspired him? That’s right, me.”

‘You are the one who taught Nathan about embracing his weirdness?’ ‘Oh yes, and I taught him everything I know. I appear to him in visions and encourage him, I am his spirit guide. I sought out him specifically. I sought out him to be the one to carry out my wisdom. And he has done a fine job of that and I see he befriended some of my characters too.’ ‘He sure did..even Tom Everett and Grocer.’ ‘I am so glad to see he’s doing so well with his powers.’

“It makes me so happy to know you like my alter-ego.”

“No problem, Nathan…”

Mel chuckled as she floated over to Danny…’So what were you and Eucalyptus up to while I was with the microbes last time?’ ‘Let’s just say that Stephanie is enjoying his time as my doppelganger, I kept her memories as they are but she or he is a much nicer person.’ ‘Thanks for that.’ ‘No problem, I know how much of a pain in the behind she was so I decided to fix them with Eukie’s help.’

“I know you did an amazing job.”

“I definitely think so.”

‘And I assume you know me as well.’ Matthias/Werebelushi added. ‘Of course I do, love your show by the way, John would be proud.’ ‘Coming from you, that means a lot.’ The duo smiled as they fought off monsters in the bedroom and explored the environment, dealing with the forces of the supernatural and having fun doing so.

“This is way more fun than anything those Simp Central morons could think of.”

“Oh yeah, who needs them? We could start our Aykroyd and horror club.”

‘With vampires, monsters and hookers!’ Oats chuckled as he had fun blasting demons, they spent the next few hours fighting monsters and learning about supernatural entities and the duo enjoyed hanging out with Dan Aykroyd and learning about his experiences, an hour later they decided to stop and have a snack.

“This is definitely an awesome adventure.”

“I’d say so, thanks.”

“No problem, you guys rock.”

When it was time for their adventure to end the wish-granter turned everything back to normal apart from the transformed and possessed residents of the household and of course Nathan, but they had afternoon tea and an hour later they had dinner, they were able to hang out and play some more, partaking in a karaoke session and even watching some movies on Disney Plus including watching the animated show Koala-Man. Nathan and Matthias officially moved in with the duo and Mel and they had all sorts of fun, Nathan was able to travel between the Nile Road house and his lab anytime he wanted and more than that…everyone’s favorite Werebelushi got to hang out with Nathan’s Were-Aykroyd alter-ego a lot more and even got to team up with him.

After their karaoke session they all relaxed and had a nice time before getting ready for bed, when it was time to get ready for bed they all put on their night-clothes and brushed their teeth, and they got into bed an hour later and had nice dreams as the pegasus bed took them on a supernatural adventure with Dan Aykroyd.

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ricardofcty126 · 2 years

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

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🕯Anon said : Can I request headcanons with a Modern Au Teacher!Erwin and his s/o is a slightly famous artist like a painter that’s always in the basement. Maybe have a moment where the art teacher begs him to bring them to the school when they find out who Erwin is with. ? 🕯

Teacher!Erwin brings you, a famous painter, to work.

{ Erwin x Reader | tw:none | fluff, suggestive kiss | modern }

{ "Leisurely Sunday in the Villa Comunale in Naples" 1993 by Francesco Tammaro Born in 1939 }

Grassy fields surrounded the old big building as the trees undressing of their leaves onto the sidewalks, currently being swept away by the janitor.

Students were filling the halls, the sound of chatter and laughter following after. Outside in the yard, the whistle of the gym teacher could be heard following by heavy footsteps as the football team started their morning practice. Not long after the bell rang, the halls were empty again only for some crumbled papers and snack covers left behind.

"Pigs, all of them. There's a trashcan right there." Levi scrunched his nose at the smell of axe spray and deodorant near the trophy cases. "Tell Miche to spray his running monkeys with soap every once in a while."

"Now now, what got you so grumpy this early in the morning?" Adjusting the lab coat on their suit, Hange replied. "Oh cut the kids some slack, their big game is coming soon or something."

"And he's been implenting a more strick hygiene policy." Said Erwin, holding a plastic binder with a stack of exam papers, mostly marked red. "He's trying to convince the principal to ban deodorant during practice because it's making his nose burn."

Huffing in response, Levi crossed his arms. "Yeah because the principle will definitely listen to him after that whole sniffing people scandal- Hey! Brats, don't you have classes"

As Levi went to scold the two students currently hanging a handmade poster for the upcoming game on the wall, a couple of students came up to Hange, looking in a hurry as they explained the Science lab was locked and they're getting tired of sitting on their backpacks outside.

Soon after, Erwin too made his way to class.

Upon entering the room, the talking quieted down as the squeaking sound of people going back to their own desks followed. Walking upfront, Erwin dropped the binder on his desk beside the empty mug, a couple of groans filled the room as the students realised what it was.

"Mr.Smith, didn't we just take the test yesterday? Shouldn't you like...I don't know double check or something? Maybe you rushed grading them?" One student called from the back as some chuckles and agreement followed from the rest.

Taking the stacks of papers out, Erwin made his way between the students, giving each on their graded paper. "I don't know Connie, maybe you should've double checked your answers instead?"

The playful atmosphere of the classroom was cut short as the door slammed open, making everyone freeze in their seats, none other than the art teacher walked in.

Nile Dawk, current art teacher who fails at least a quarter of his class each year. Who has oh just the most swell relationship with Erwin and anyone can tell you that.

You see, Erwin adored art, both the classic and the modern. Nile admired history and knew just how each art era had its link to a historical event.

And the pair couldn't stand each other.

Crossing his arms, Nile said "Erwin, you have explaining to do." Before dropping a newly printed magazine onto his desk,

Its cover, showing a brand new art museum that just finished construction and is hosting a lot of different paintings from unrecognised underground talents.

"Nile, I think you misunderstand. I teach history, I'm not an architect." He said raising an eyebrow, before tilting his head as if he's deep in thought, "or do you want me to explain what a museum is?"

Sneering at his remark, Nile flipped through the pages till he reached a certain one. It depicted a one of the paintings that will be displayed in the museum, a portrait of a blond man with broad shoulders and sharp blue eyes seemingly distracted from reality by the book in his hand.

The soft glow of the fireplace next to the red armchair he sat in, adding a certain orange hue to his light complexion. His long fingers holding the leather book as a glass-stained maroon vase sat on the small table behind him, containing a single red rose.

It's clear from the details poured into his eyes and the shading for each strand of his hair that whoever made this painting, held a great affection for the man.

"Now Mr.history teacher, care to explain why your face is on this painting? By one of the few promising artists of this useless generation?."

Hushed murmurs filled the classroom as students took out their phones googling the name y/n, showing each other the said painting while staring with wide eyes at Erwin.

Rubbing his temple with his fingers, Erwin frowned at the scene the other was causing. Knowing very well it won't take long for this fire to spread, he decided to add more fuel to the flames.

He took a long breath, before telling the class to quiet down with a stern expression.

"Mr.Dawk, are you really asking me why y/n, my love, the person I'm married to, paint me?" He said facing the other, looking directly into his eyes. "Maybe you should ask y/n instead if you're so insisting on forcing yourself in my private life."

Narrowing his eyes, Nile snorted. "You know what Erwin? Maybe I should.

And that's the story Erwin told you while having dinner that day.

He looks at you with pleading eyes as if to silently apologise for dragging you into this mess, his plate still half full and drink untouched.

Please reassure him that it's alright, you don't mind taking a day off to visit his work

He'll reach out to gently squeeze your hand in his, whispering a small thank you as his thumb rubs against your skin.

He also says he'll do the dishes that day, you can go rest and he will join you in bed after a while, a relieved smile on his face.

The next day, as he wakes up early like usual. He makes sure to wake you up with a kiss, stroking your face before murmuring "good morning" against your lips.

He knows because of your work you don't wake up early, so he's really patient and understanding if you happen to get grumpy for a while.

Handing you a warm drink to help wake you up, he'll make sure you eat something before changing and heading out.

You're not surprised to find him already done and dressed himself.

Hair as perfect as usual.

On the drive to school, you'll feel the cool morning air against your skin while your head leans back into the seat, eyes fluttering shut.

You can have your mini nap, Erwin will make sure to wake you up when you arrive.

When arriving, he made sure to open the car door for you. The fresh air and green scenery surrounded you both.

When arriving at the teacher's lounge, you're almost surprised to see two people already there from how early it was.

The first was sitting on the old black couch near the window, his dirty blond bangs covering his eyes. The second you could see making tea on the other side of the room Where the kitchenware was.

Both of them glanced up when Erwin called their name, staring at the way he had an arm wrapped around your waist while introducing you.

It was Miche who came first, standing from the couch you noticed just how tall he was. Offering your hand for him to shake, only for him to pull you into a tight hug instead.

He pulled away, tapping his nose before a smile slowly formed on his face, nodding in approval

The second was Levi, who ignored your offered hand only to sip on his teacup, assessing you up and down.

Not too long after, a person with a messy ponytail and a colorful lab coat arrived.

They took one glance at you, then the matching wedding rings on yours and Erwins fingers before taking an immediate interest in you.

Hange asked questions faster than you can answer them, with sparkling eyes and a wide smile.

At the first sign of you being uncomfortable, it was Levi who stepped in to tell Hange to tone it down before apologizing to you.

And it was Miche who got you some snacks from the teacher's secret stash after.

You've heard stories and one sided phone calls about them from Erwin, yet it still didn't prepare you for actually meeting them.

While overwhelming at first, the more time you spent talking as Erwin reassuringly sat beside you, you noticed how genuinely interested they were.

Levi, while seemingly cold, was actually the most considerate and paid the most attention to you. He'd step in whenever things got too much and would be really polite despite having a colourful language. By the end of it he even made you some tea, something that seemed to surprise Erwin and the rest.

"It's just...he never trusted someone this quickly before."

Hange was genuinely interested in you, having researched you and your art beforehand. They really were eager to hear even the most boring details and were capable of understanding your way of thinking. They even gave you a small rubber frog they carried around in their pocket to hand out. It would've been cute wasn't for the fact immediately after they mentioned the real human skeleton they have pinned to the lab door.

"His name is bean! I've been actually investing into getting him a human heart for Valentine's day, but all the ones I've found so far were in jars."

The most quiet of them was actually Miche, although he'd smile at you whenever you looked his way. Despite his intimidating size you learned how harmless and easy going he is, the most chill out of the three. He did mention knowing Erwin for the longest time out of them, having been childhood friends even. He promised to tell you all the embarrassing secrets Erwin tried to erase from existence as he added his number on your phone.

"He ain't as proper as he looks, I got the dirt on him."

You saw Erwin's jaw tightening before he changed the subject quickly, giving the side eye to Miche who only smiled back.

The rest of the day went by smoothly, Erwin didn't leave your side for one minute and made sure to check on you constantly.

He introduced you to the rest of the teachers and seemed only amused at any teasing he got from students passing by.

By the end of the day, as the sun began to set and the students already done with their clubs, you and Erwin had one final place to go.

The art classroom.

"Just one more thing before that" he told you, guiding you into an empty classroom.

You saw his desk, the mug you gifted him on father's day as a joke sat on his desk, several paper sketches you made were framed next to it.

It was his classroom, with only you and him, the door open.

He closed it.

You stood against his desk as he moved closer, arms circling you, not breaking eye contact.

"May I?" He whispered, licking his own lips.

As he got your permission, he pressed his lips against yours, arm stroking your back before pulling away after some seconds.

He rubbed your swollen bottom lip with his thumb, a small smile on his face before pulling away.

Your heart was still fluttering against your chest as you left the classroom, while Erwin seemed to be smiling at nothing with a slight curl to his lips, steps more lighter than before.

Right after that he took you to the art classroom. The smell of oil paint and sound of brushes scratching against paper filling the air.

Stepping inside, the scratching sound stopped as a certain black haired man stared at you, eyes wide and lips parted.

Disbelief clear in his face, Nile was quick to mask his emotions as he noticed the smugness Erwin was in.

"Nile, I'd like to introduce you to my lovely darling, y/n." There was a chipper to Erwin's voice as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

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poptod · 3 years

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The Breeding Kings pt. 2, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Creeping closer.

Notes: can you tell how much im geeking out on the pyramid section of this. can you. now i want you to guess how long i researched it for a scene that was only supposed to be a few paragraphs and some dialogue. WC: 8.9k (sorry)

The way back to your house was a slow crawl, but a necessary evil. After the incident in which your clothes were ruined, Ahkmen offered to clean your clothes for you, a task you knew little about and usually didn't have to do in the first place. You accepted, though there was an issue––you didn't own any other clothes.

Rushlights in your tiny bedroom dimly reflected off the hanging silks and shawls, bathing the room and your skin in deep purples and reds darkened by both the evening and the smoke of incense.

Cloth rustled in the other room, making your shoulders seize up. The funny little Egyptian man who had taken up most of your evening with laughter was not someone you could fully trust, but few were, and you could still enjoy his companionship for the remaining minutes of the evening. He would leave soon––with your clothes––and you would not be able to leave your home until he returned with them. Nudity was fine in Egypt, but you weren't Egyptian. It was an uncommon practice to you.

You could physically feel your face flush with embarrassment, your chest tightening when he said your name in a soft voice. Unable to respond, you continued to strip yourself of the muddy garments, setting them carefully in a pile on a part of the floor that didn't have any carpet.

"Yogi?" He asked again. You whipped around to the curtain separating you from him, but found it vacant as always.

"Give me time," you said, your voice trembling slightly as you attempted to pull your pants off your hopping feet. "Taking off mud is hard."

"Oh, I know," he said, suddenly much closer to you, but still not breaching the curtain. "I'm a little less drunk right now so I wanted to try and pronounce your name, so... what was it again? Sorry."

"It is okay," you chuckled. "My name is Yogasundari.”

"Ah, right. Yogatsundera?"

"Yoga-soon-dahry."

"Yogasundari?"

"There you go," you said with a smile, happy to hear your full name from someone else after a long while of dealing with a horrid nickname.

With that, you pulled off the last of your clothes, removing the jewelry that had belonged to your family. Those you placed on your desk, but the clothes you folded best you could before timidly approaching the curtain leading to the funny Egyptian man. You couldn't quite remember his name, making your next actions all the more embarrassing, reaching forward to pull away the fabric.

"I finish this," you said, poking your head out, your extended hand beneath you.

Ahk moved to grab the pile, but stopped when he noticed your silhouette, now clear against the rushlight behind you. His breathing halted, caught in his chest. When he met your eye, he remembered himself, keeping his gaze above your shoulders as he took the clothes.

"You do return quick, yes?" You asked pointedly.

"I'll be back here tomorrow."

"Good. I have a work in the morning."

He held the clothes away from his body, but a giddiness ran through him that brought him to a quiet carelessness. His feet worked faster, an intrinsic smile on his face, and his home, the palace, fast approaching.

The whole of the evening accompanied him as he walked. In less than 12 hours he'd gotten the necklace back, 'beat' Panya in a drinking contest, flirted (albeit drunkenly) with an incredibly pretty brewer, and possibly even made friends with someone with entirely different life experiences from himself. The only drawback was that you were clearly not a fan of the royal family despite your liking of Egypt.

What had been his cover name?

Ak'anpu, if he recalled correctly through his drunken haze of a night. His name, and then Anubis', as Piye had called him.

Oh, Piye's gonna fucking love this, he thought as a grin spread across his face, his speed hastening as he approached the palace steps.

By morning the servants had finished washing your clothes, leaving them to hang in the laundry room till they were picked up. Ahkmen didn't notice it, as he was awakened by his servant Naguib, and his first waking thoughts were of unpleasantries against the bright morning sun.

Naguib pulled open the drapes shielding Ahk's room from the outside, leaving the long, intricate arches to cast the sun's glow directly onto Ahkmen's bed. He groaned, flipping over onto his stomach as he twisted in his sheets.

"Good morning, my Prince. You have school at Osiris' temple today, but nothing else. The Pharaoh instructed me to tell you that he is having dinner with the emissaries from Ebla when they arrive within the week. He wants you to attend," Naguib said as he opened Ahkmen's closet, pulling out the Prince's usual daily clothes.

"Is it optional?"

"Ask your father."

Once Ahkmen was safe and back in his clothes, he ran down to the laundry rooms, fetching your clothes and stopping by the kitchens for a tiger roll. He barely stopped to talk to any of the servants, moving on his way at a fast pace that sent him skipping down the stone pathways of Memphis. Ahkmen wasn't small by any means, but he had a way of moving about crowds, slinking through groups and keeping quick on his feet.

Piye managed to find him a couple turns before the temple, grabbing the crook of his arm and interrupting the Prince's stride.

"Ahk," they said as they turned him round.

"Piye!"

"How did it go last night?" They asked, picking back up into a walk.

"Wonderful. I think I remember most of it, too! I got my mother's necklace back, so I'll be gifting her that this evening, and I got to acquaint myself with that friend of yours, Yogi," he said with an animated expression, bright eyes and all smiles. "They're quite interesting."

"I see you have their clothes, too," Piye said, their eyes falling to the folded cloth in Ahkmen's hands. "What the hell did you two do last night?"

"Oh. Oh, no, I – they slipped in the mud and they don't really have access to good cleaning materials, and since it was technically my fault, I offered to have them cleaned," he explained.

"Awful nice of you."

"It's only right."

With help from his friend, Ahkmen made it over the boxes marking the entrance to your home without dirtying your clothes. Piye followed soon after, and the both of them entered your little tent, searching for a hard surface to knock on.

"Yogasundari?" Ahkmen called, feeling his face flush as he prayed he pronounced it right. "I've got your clothes."

"You have my cloths??" You said from behind one of the walls that Ahkmen remembered seeing you through.

"Right here," he said, reaching through the curtain to hand you the stack.

Weight was lifted off his hand and he withdrew, waiting a moment as you eagerly dressed yourself.

"Thank you many times!" You said, appearing with a wide smile that crinkled the flushed skin of your cheeks.

"Of course. We have to go now. I'll stop by soon!" He said as he turned to leave.

"Thank you," you said with a bow.

This time, he and Piye entered the temple through the correct door, walking through the long courtyard and observing the workers. They had been working on the garden for a while now, planting rows of seeds every day that would be fertilized with water, the Nile's silt, and of course, feces at times. At least the flowers everywhere blocked out the scent.

In the trees that towered above even the temple, birds cawed and sung at one another, pecking at the dates that fell on unfortunate people's heads. Piye managed to miss most of them, but Ahkmen was assaulted by one landing on his shoulder.

"Come now, can't be late two days in a row," Piye said, rushing Ahkmen along as the bell began to toll.

"And in the beginning of the year," Ahkmen added shakily as he began to run, coerced by Piye's long strides.

The two burst through the vacant doorframe before the eighth note, rushing to sit on the floor with the other two students. The priest entered moments later, eyeing both of them suspiciously, but remaining silent on the subject. Ahkmen let out a breath he didn't know he was hiding, reaching for the limestone tablets the class would be practicing on today.

Several minutes in he was already staring out the open door, watching the birds that pecked on the dried fruits littering the garden, fallen from the tops of trees and the undergrowth of bushes. However, it wasn't until several hours in that he caught sight of something that actually earned his attention.

You were near unrecognizable without your striking clothes, without the dim lighting he had already gotten so used to seeing you in. Reds, golds, and purples were replaced with the common warm white of servant skirts, allowing him to see the whole of your stomach and chest, as well as your legs that no longer hid within pants. Ahkmen hardly understood your insistence on wearing such warm clothes in Egyptian weather, and his ideas on the matter were only enforced when he felt blood rushing to his cheeks in a fiery blush.

For a long while you didn't notice him, and since consequences weren't part of the equation, Ahkmen stared free of guilt. You were positioned on your knees, rags and sponges in hand as you scrubbed the perfect marble floor of the outer temple halls. His jaw began to fall open, his eyes enraptured in the sunlight that shone off your dark skin, and was only dragged away by Piye manually shutting his mouth.

"Stop drooling. They won't come over just to clean your spit off the floor," Piye whispered in his ear as the priest's backs were turned.

"What?" Ahk whispered back, but went silent as his teachers turned back to the class.

"Now, what are the ways our Pharaoh's names written and how does the type of name change with the way it's written?"

"The Horus name is written in the box with the falcon on the edge?" One of the younger boys asked, his hand raised hesitantly in the air.

"No," said the priest with a tut.

An hour or so later he and his classmates were released for the midday break, rushing out of the enclosed classroom and into the long, stretching gardens of the temple's courtyard. Though the days were growing steadily cooler, flowers still bloomed with abandon in their ponds and bushes.

Piye began to part from Ahk as they approached the kitchens, causing Ahkmen to halt and grab their arm.

"Where are you going?"

"My father wants me to study runes in bones and teeth, so... I won't be back for the rest of the day. Tonight, though, I might have something planned for us," they said, shaking off his grip with a teasing wink.

Ahkmen watched as they jogged out of the temple, disappearing down the more common streets of Memphis. He frowned. Most of the other students his age were either too scared of him or didn't like him based purely off his status and his father's rule. It was things like that that had Ahk swearing up and down he would not be like his father––he would not be the reason his children couldn't make friends.

After gathering more food than he actually needed, he snuck out of the kitchens, speed-walking around as his eyes searched for the familiar stature of his new 'friend,' if he could call you that. How perfect it was that you worked here as well, and that he discovered that fact on a day of Piye's absence.

He searched the entirety of the temple's courtyard, classrooms, and worker rooms and couldn't find you. There was much of the temple left––about half unexplored––but those areas were blocked off. It was then he recalled you weren't from Memphis, and you might not understand the rules of priest-ly areas and citizen areas. He paused mid step, dread dropping his heart into his feet. Priests and oracles were not kind to those who disobeyed their direct rules of the holy.

Even with his royal status, he had to adhere to the same rules when it came to Gods. Sometimes even the Pharaoh was given such commands. But respect had never looked his way, and his desire to see you overcame his reluctance, stewing ideas in his head.

For a good few minutes he waited outside the entrance to the God's gardens, watching to see if anyone would try to stop him. In that time he pretended to eat, and after earning no strange looks, he ducked into the long hallway that would soon lead to the home of Osiris. Today, the massive oak doors were shut tight.

On either side of the hallway were gardens––to his left, a water garden, rife with lotus and reeds. To his right, a garden of date trees, lentils, lettuce, grapes, and pomegranates. The tall arches allowed him to easily see in, and the absence of a roof had sunlight raining down on the golden and green plants. What little light made it through the arches fell on his tanned skin, warming up the cool temple air, that had in times left him shivering.

Unfortunately, you weren't in either garden. He checked for a while, too, worried that he might've overlooked you behind tall plants or thick brush, but to no avail. All that remained was Osiris' home––the inner temple.

He had been in there before––rather recently, as well––but that did not mean he didn't fear it. He was quite clearly not where he was supposed to be, and his break wouldn't last much longer, as he'd spent much of the time making sure he wouldn't be caught. However, if he didn't find you, then it would be for nothing, and with that thought he continued forward.

To his surprise, when he just barely cracked open the doors, no one was inside. Not even the High Priest. The towering statue of Osiris stared blankly forward, the softest of smiles pulling at his perfect lips. Entirely still and cold.

He shut the doors slowly as he left, returning down the thin hallway with a furrowed brow. Perhaps you had left?

As he made to reenter the hall of gardens, a quiet hum reached his ears. He perked up almost immediately, eyes widening as he turned, staring at the temple's door as though it had spoke. He didn't dare move, but the song continued.

With steps of the utmost carefulness, he returned down the hall to the door. Pressing his ear against the wood, he heard nothing, and stood with yet another frown.

The voice had to be coming from somewhere. Further towards the courtyard it grew quieter, so it originated from within the holy ground, but where?

Ahkmen closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he listened attentively to the hum. Centering in on it, he began to follow, paying close attention to the volume. He reached with his hands as he walked blind, and came to a doorway he had never seen before when he opened his eyes. It was barely more than a crack in the meticulously painted wall, but large enough for a person to walk through. How he'd never noticed it before escaped him.

Echoes filled the massive room, entirely unlit with a stone roof above it. Ahkmen had to take a moment to let his eyes adjust, but when they did, he jumped back.

The room had to be larger than the whole of the courtyard, with walls that stretched too far to see the end of them. Pillars of a massive size filled the room, positioned with a graphed precision revered by other nations, each one too large for even Piye to wrap their arms around. And without fail, every single one of them was painted in hieroglyphs small as his fingernails paired to scenes of gory victory.

Music reverberated in his bones, painting the empty air that now thrummed with a thousand voices singing one after the other, yet still faint enough for Ahkmen to be unable to make out the words.

Without being able to track the volume of the humming, finding you would be much harder. This was, undoubtedly, you––your voice, speaking in words you knew well instead of the jargon of Egyptian. He tried his best, and in the end he found you scrubbing the floor mindlessly, staring up at the paintings above you as you murmured songs to yourself.

Hunger of cannibals...

those black-eyed pigs.

"Yogasundari?" Ahkmen said quietly from behind, hoping he wouldn't startle you.

You did jump a little, but you turned around with expectant, not fearful, eyes. Upon recognizing him, you smiled.

"Aganu!"

He thought to correct you, but realized it meant little considering it wasn't his real name anyway.

"Good to see you, as well," he chuckled. "What are you doing in here?"

"They ask me to clean, I clean, and it is quiet, this room. I like it here," you said, leaning back on your haunches as you returned to staring at the high pillar in front of you.

"They let you in here?"

"It is not hard to get in. You got in."

"No, I mean –" he took a moment to think of his words, "– they usually have one of the priests clean the holy places. They let a citizen clean in here?"

You paused, glancing away. "I did not ask," you admitted.

Ahkmen's eyes widened, reaching for you and pulling you to your feet.

"Then we need to get out of here before they punish both of us," he said, not pausing to let you gather your cleaning things before pulling you along.

"My cleans!"

He didn't stop running till he found the crack of an entrance, sneaking himself and you through to the slightly-less-illegal area of the holy gardens. Bright sunlight blinded him, and he squinted his eyes, shying away from the sudden stimulation. He kept the both of you moving though, till you reached the entrance of the hallway to the courtyard.

"You cannot go in such places," he said once he felt as though he had the peace of mind to address your stupidity. "I don't know what you've been taught, but when a priest tells you to do something, you do it. No questions asked."

"That is not a good thing," you said, frowning.

"It doesn't matter if it's good or bad. That's just how it is, and you and I are powerless to stop that. It's easiest to just listen," he said, growing softer as he noted your confusion.

"I..." you trailed off without ever having started.

"I'm sorry. I wish it could be different," he murmured, tucking stray hairs behind your ear.

"Why make all that beautiful if no one can see it?"

"It's for the Gods."

"I saw no Gods in that."

Ahkmen sighed.

"Just – do you understand me?" He asked, resting his hands on your shoulders to force you to look him in the eye.

"I think so," you said quietly.

"Thank you," he said in a rush of relief. "What were you singing in there?"

"A song," you said with a shrug, eyes falling to the ground. "My mother had sing to me. And.. one I heard, in the market."

"You have a very nice voice," he said, carefully watching for your reaction.

"Yes, she was nice," you nodded.

"That's not... never-mind. Here, I brought some food for you," he said as he handed you one of the sweetbreads.

Instantly your face lit up, a toothy grin matching your bright eyes.

"Thank you!" You said, taking and eagerly biting into it. "You are very good."

He chuckled, mumbling a thank-you through his own small smile.

"You know, you didn't tell me you work here. I go to school here," he said, pointing behind his shoulder to the classroom he would soon be returning to.

"That is funny," you said through a mouthful of food.

Your hunger reminded him of his own, and he returned to his own loaf.

"I'm glad you're here. Usually I only talk to Piye, and they can get rather busy sometimes. Do you come every day?"

"Most days. There are days they tell me not to work, no one is here but priests. But I am told to leave at a 'midday'. So I will leave soon, I think," you said, already finishing up your bread. "I go to my house and do my work."

"Your beers and such?"

"Yes!" You said. "My brews, they give me food like the priest. But from market adults."

"Do you –"

Ahkmen had begun to say something, but was interrupted by the tolling of a bell that called him back to class. He sighed, his shoulders falling as responsibility once more came to the forefront of his mind.

"I must go. Can I come visit later today?" He asked, already beginning to walk away.

"Of course! Come buy lots of beer!" You called with a singing laugh.

By eveningtime, Ahkmen's fantasies of you had reached an all-time high, daydreaming about how you would react if he had no qualms of anxiety holding him back. What you would do if he had the courage to pull you into him and kiss you, dipping you as your songs echoed in the silent, might halls of pillars reaching for the clouds.

Nothing the priests said was retained by his fog-heavy mind. The bell rang, startling the Prince, making him move for the first time in hours. He shoved his materials away haphazardly, leaving before any of his classmates and heading straight for your alley.

The sun was at its' low height above the western mountains, casting the shadows of tall graves past the river and onto the shore of the living. Red and gold bathed the land, painted his skin into a bronze, which deepened with a blush as he scaled the wooden crates. Already your hidden home had turned to a sort of oasis, entirely separate from his city.

Myrrh, which was the priest's incense of choice during the midday ceremonies, once again met his senses, swirling round his head as he entered the tent.

"Yogasundari?"

"Wait a bit, I am there in a bit of time," you said from behind one of the walls.

Clattering followed by two voices then came, but Ahkmen recalled that this was your business, and left you to it for the time being.

A few minutes later, you called him into the backroom without coming to see him.

"... are you sure?" He asked. To his knowledge, your customers hadn't left.

"Yes, it is good," you said, failing to elaborate further.

Ahk bit the inside of his cheek, reaching forward to pull away the cloth walls. Warm light came from a wall further on down, and when he pulled it away, the yellow light of fire burst in the tent, safe in an entirely-stone enclosing. A clearly handmade mechanism allowed you to hang four pots over the fire, two of which you tended to at the current moment.

Beside you, two familiar faces stood against one of the walls, quietly discussing with one another. His stare caught Unas' attention, who motioned to Panya that Ahkmen was behind her. She turned, scowling when she saw him.

"Why are you here?" She asked with crossed arms.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, his mood suddenly soured.

"We're here for expertise on an ore I found in the junkyard," Unas explained with a small smile.

He and Unas weren't exactly friends, but they'd always held respect for each other. Ahkmen admired his ingenuity. Junkyards, however, were not the Prince's scene.

"Fun. I'm just here to get drunk," Ahk chuckled, sitting down on the dirt floor with his back pressed against the stone wall.

The number of colorful fabrics in this room were contained to only the entrance, and from the voices surrounding him, he correctly assumed that the 'walls' that made up this room were simply the closely-built walls of many homes all facing away from the one center point. A makeshift wooden roof had been placed above him, mostly blocking out the dying sun's light.

"I work with many rocks," you murmured, concentrated entirely on the stone in your hand, "but this is not rock. It is too pure. You found this in a.. a... what did you name it?"

"Junkyard?"

"Yes, that," you said, snapping your fingers. "This is very different. Others can come looking for it."

"So it's worth something?"

"I do not know. It is just pure, and that is not normal," you said as you handed it back to them. "I can try hard to name it, but it could be long of time."

"Hmm," Unas said, looking to Panya to communicate with her silently.

"Keep it," Panya said. "If we need it, we'll come back for it, but just concentrate on figuring out what it is."

"I will find it," you assured them with a small bow.

Panya and Unas left a few minutes later after having been served an older batch of beer that had sat to ferment. The boiling pots of beer hung over the fire were not yet ready, even if they smelled good, so Ahkmen settled on one of your specialties; a more alcoholic, sweeter beer.

Most of the beer Ahkmen had in his lifetime was for simple nutrition, thick and quite clearly tasting of sweetbread. At rare times, the Pharaoh would bring in more alcoholic beer, an event saved mainly for festivals where beer was cheaper than distributing wine.

Your brew, though––the sweet flavor of wine, an alcoholic content higher than both, for the price of a regular mug of beer. Ahkmen returned to one of the carpeted rooms, finding himself more comfortable surrounded by your purple silks, pillows and blankets cast beneath his feet. There he sat at your table, content to sip at his drink.

A moment or two later you returned to him, straightening out your long clothes before taking a seat across from him. You folded your hands neatly on the table.

"How long have you been working at Osiris' temple?" Ahkmen asked, setting his cup down on the table.

"I found it not long ago. My work is not much known, so I get little money, little food. So more work lets me eat, keep safe in the city," you explained, eyes cast to the side as you thought through your translations.

"Do you like working there?"

"I do not like the clothes they give me," you said, lips twisting into a pout. "They are not enough."

Ahkmen chuckled, though he hadn't meant to, and sighed to calm the delight in his chest.

"As long as you listen to the priests, you'll be alright," he said as he took another swallow from his cup.

"Have you something eaten today?" You asked, moving to stand.

"Yes. Haven't had dinner, if that's relevant," he said.

"I have slow night this night. Come and make food with me," you said as you offered your hand.

He glanced to his cup, and then to your outstretched hand. There was no option.

Ahkmen found himself in your kitchen, where he had been several minutes earlier, except now the brews of the day had been set to cool in their jars, leaving the fire open for other uses. Your choice ingredients weren't unfamiliar to him, but your method of cooking them was.

In most kitchens Ahkmen visited, pans of vegetables were fried over smaller flames, different oils and spices flavoring them. Slabs or slices of meat were cooked in a similar fashion. Your style consisted mainly of throwing every ingredient into your largest pot and letting it cook in its' own stew. You poured a sort of gravy over it, mixing the vegetables, meats, and other such things.

"You like bread in soup?" You asked, pulling a large knife out of its' storage on your counter.

"Sounds good," he said with a shrug. He'd never tried, but it couldn't be that different from beer.

You took a loaf out from underneath a white square of cloth, setting it on a board as you began to cut into it.

"May I help?" He asked upon realizing this was a task he actually could complete.

"Uh," you looked to him, then back to the bread and knife, "okay. Make in small, good?"

"Of course," he said, taking the knife and positioning it.

He did his very best, concentrating far more than was actually necessary, which you giggled from. You tried to hide it, and though he did spot it he appreciated the effort.

You went to chopping more vegetables, cutting lettuce in long slices that acted like noodles as you poured them in from your cutting board. When Ahk's board got overcrowded with cubes of bread, he set the loaf to the side, sliding the pieces in. He looked to you, stared at you as you worked diligently. The slip-up nearly cost his left middle finger.

His hands shook when he realized his mistake, but he couldn't stop smiling. Not till the both of you finished, and you returned to your spot in front of the fire, slowly mixing the concoction.

"You must do this a lot," Ahkmen said as he sat down on the cold floor.

"What do you say?"

"You do this a lot. Mixing pots over fire."

"Oh. Yes, I... I do. My potions, my beer, and my food can all be in this pot," you said, clanking the edge of it with your spoon. "I think... it is good. I like this moving. I can get tired, but it is one thing I know. We eat now."

It took a moment for his brain to process what you'd said, but he soon jumped to his feet, bringing down two bowls from a higher shelf. You thanked him quietly, asking him to hold them as you filled them up. The warm steam of stew drifted up towards his face, causing his mouth to water before he could even eat.

The two of you returned to the carpeted rooms, seating yourselves on the floor near to one another.

"Have you given mother your necklace?" You asked as you waited for the soup to cool to a bearable temperature.

"Not yet. I said I'd do it this evening, so I'll do it once I leave," he said, attempting to sip at his bowl, only to be burned.

"You eat fast then! You were very drunk for her," you laughed, rocking backwards in your seat.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Ahk said, grinning pleased when you giggle in response.

"I see you that night, Aganu. You were sick drunk."

"If I acted strangely it was only because you're incredibly pretty," he said, blowing on the bowl of stew before sipping it this time. It helped, however minute.

"I get you drunk again, put you out on streets to walk alone," you threatened with a raised brow. "You still be strangely."

"Don't forget stupid."

"Haha," you leaned forward, pinching his cheek, "funny Egyptian man."

The sun disappeared earlier than usual, as was customary for the cooler months, and the darkness that followed left Ahkmen enraptured in your games. Thought of his mother, of Piye, and of his father faded into you, paying close attention as you described the rules of your drinking games, with which you had unwittingly kept Ahkmen in your home.

His vision had already started to go hazy, blurred by what beer he had drank for fun hours ago. Through that fuzz he saw two large cups and two smaller ones, the smaller filled with beer, and the larger empty. Two thin sticks were balanced in a row on each large cup.

"Now – now put cup on – on cup," you said, your hands swaying as you went to grab the smaller glass. "Veerryyyyy... kavanyamehka."

Ahkmen did his best to copy, and with great concentration, succeeded.

"We do this talk," you said as you curled your fingers into fists, setting them on the edge of the table. "Do this bang-bang. And.. then, it falls, in big cup. We do again and again an' again and... again. Good?"

"Okay," said Ahkmen, who had a very weak grasp on what you just explained.

He copied your fists, and when you spoke, he followed in loud mumbles, caught in the adrenaline you'd suddenly built. In time with your garbled speech, you banged your fists against the table, and the cups began to tremble on the two twigs.

"Enka kapo ai'il kuttika ventu nam, muta'lilvila matten'atai, en tontaiyl uravem en tanllyial entovuetem, nan 'rrakemen viri naiuta ventaum!"

The louder you got, the more incomprehensible you grew, till Ahkmen was assured you weren't even speaking coherently in your home language. Ever dutiful, he matched your energy till his heart pounded and his cup fell into the larger cup. You then let out a shout, throwing your hands into the air.

"You fail!" You laughed. "Funny man."

"We," he reached into his cup and pulled the smaller cup out, "are doing – going again. I actually understand it this time! So you are finished."

You went a second time, speaking in tongues and yelling raucously when you lost, your own laugh fading into the background as Ahkmen spoke.

"I told you!" He snorted, falling back in his cushioned seat.

Three more rounds, in which there were varied successes and losses, and you paused for the best part––drinking the strange mix of different types of beers and alcohols made from the fallen cups. You linked arms, shooting back your drinks as quick as you could.

The flavors you created for your beers mixed wonderfully together, but Ahkmen was too far gone to notice any of his senses except the ones that related to you. His sight, never leaving you, the sound of your voice, the sensation of your uncommon touch. His heart pounded furiously even without him shouting.

There were few people he could legitimately claim he enjoyed getting drunk with, which made his fondness for you all the more special. Already he knew you would be a fantastic drinking buddy.

Hours that felt like minutes passed, and with both of you hidden away from the sky, you had no way of knowing it was far past midnight by the time exhaustion trickled into your body. Before you knew it, you were lying down on your back next to Ahkmen, staring silently at the detailed ceiling, your hands folded neatly on your stomach.

"I think I have not made me better because I am scared I will become a person who is not the person that my parents knew," you said in a voice that croaked.

"There will always be a part of you that is that person who knew your parents," Ahkmen said softly, turning to face you as you stared up. "And you'll always have them with you in your memories."

"But I change, and if my parents are in me, they change too? Then, they are not my parents. They are changed to someone else. I changed them."

"Everything changes. If they were alive, they would have changed over the years eventually. That's one of life's simple natures," he said.

You fell silent.

"I miss them."

Your cat meowed softly as it jumped up to your seats, walking up over your chest to face you directly. You raised a tired hand, petting the hairless skin, still staring at the ceiling.

"How long have they been gone?"

"Years," you said as you raised up your fingers to indicate 'two'. "I do not know they are dead... but I see no words from them."

This time Ahkmen went quiet.

"Do you like learning about things?" He asked when an idea popped into his head.

"Why have you ask this?"

"I like learning about things. It's a distraction, of sorts," he said, fidgeting with his fingers.

"... alright. Better than sitting," you said, grunting as you attempted to rise to your feet.

Ahkmen stood before you did, chuckling as he noted you quietly trying to convince your cat to get off you.

"You do not sleeping forever," you cooed, bopping her nose gently with your fingertip. "I will come back."

Eventually, the warm lights of your home made way for the evening chill, bathing you in darkness halted only by the presence of a half-full moon. This late into the night––or early in the morning––near no one was awake, and if they were, they were contained mainly to their bedrooms within the walls of their homes. It left the streets and walkways vacant as you wandered aimlessly at Ahkmen's side.

Though most everywhere was quiet and unoccupied, there were houses in which lights had been lit, visible through windows that allowed it to pour out onto the ground outside. Those little spots of light illuminated your path, allowing you to skip over rocks that you would've otherwise tripped over.

"Are you religious, Yogasundari?" Ahkmen asked, his hands folded behind his back as he strolled with you.

"A what?"

"Do you believe in Gods, in a life after death," he clarified.

"My family is," you said, kicking a pebble. "They talk to this god, Shiva Pashupati. I am – my name, it is from the Bandha, which – it is to sit in a way as He makes."

"Shiva..."

"Pashupati."

"Right. What do you ask of him? If you do ask anything," he said, glancing between you and the path ahead.

"Food, no danger, you know," you said with a shrug. "I do not know a lot. My parents did not speak about my home a lot. I know... there is more Gods, but I know no names."

"We have many Gods as well. They lead us into a happy afterlife. Has anyone ever told you about who we worship?"

"No, but I want to know."

"For starters, that temple you work at––it's the home of Osiris, who is the ruler of the underworld, where we go when we die. He is a God of power, righteousness, and death. People here are allowed to choose which Gods they want to worship at any given time, but many choose favorites. For example, I am a devotee of Khonsu and Ptah."

The river before you grew nearer till you stood at the bank's edge, the edge of your toes just barely touching the water. You hardly noticed where the both of you were walking, but you recognized this spot, and identified it as the place Ahkmen had washed up the other day.

"Khonsu... and Ptah," you said in deep concentration as Ahkmen pulled you up onto the wooden docks. "What do they do?"

"Khonsu is a God of the moon, of time, and can extend or shorten the lifespans of anyone he meets. Ptah is a creator-god, so he creates many things, like you do," he said, his hand falling from yours as he stopped at the edge of the dock. "He is a blacksmith of sorts."

Ahkmen bent down, kneeling with one knee on the wood and the other raised to his chest. From there he pulled at the rope keeping a canoe in place, reaching forward to steady the boat when it came loose, now slave to the soft currents of the river.

No words were exchanged as he once more took your hand, helping you into the canoe. You grabbed the oars so as to balance yourself, even though it didn't help in the slightest, and took your seat on the bow of the small boat. Ahkmen soon followed, sitting down across from you. He took the oars and began to row slowly away from the shore.

"The Nile is a beautiful thing that brings to us life through the power of the God Hapi, who controls the floods that entail both death and revitalization. But, if you sail straight across, we find our earthly version of the underworld," he said, and the few words you could understand seemed to only confuse you.

"I am not sure I –"

"The Eastern bank is for the living," he said, gesturing to the city behind him. "The Western is where the dead lie forever. It is where the sun casts its' final rays before dying."

"Ohhh," you said with a wide jaw, looking out over his shoulder to the banks ahead of you.

You had, for a time, wondered why the other shore seemed deserted while the one you occupied was so lively. You had also wondered why there were massive pyramids shining a stark white against the warm sand and blossoming trees, their heights a monument of human achievement, jutting out of the desert to remind all who watched that there was greater power than they will ever behold.

"The pyramids out there," Ahk paused to look behind him before returning to you and rowing, "they're tombs. Resting places of great Pharaohs who came before us."

"Those are for one person?!" You asked with wide, shocked eyes.

"Each one is built for one person, yes," he chuckled. "Generally we're not allowed to go here unless it is for prayer, but I don't think anyone will ask questions this late at night."

Crickets and frogs croaked from the safety of bog-like swarms of lilypads, welcoming you loudly to the land of the dead within the land of the living. Ahkmen jumped out of the boat, sullying his sandals and skirt in muddy water as he traipsed through the undergrowth, bringing the stern of the ship to rest fully on the unmoving shore.

Once he finished that, he took your hand, helping you out of the canoe and onto dry land. You thanked him quietly, and in turn led him out of the water.

The distant pyramids had been a wonder to you, but you never gave them much thought. You didn't know what they were used for, if anything, and you had no idea why, or even how, they were built. Now the alabaster pikes remained shadows against a star-lit sky, a painting of a million stars illuminating nothing more than a silhouette of the once glittering pyramids. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared up. They were much taller than you'd originally thought.

"A good long while ago, there was a Pharaoh by the name of Djoser, and he was the first to build any sort of pyramid. Before him, the graves of Pharaohs remained simple mastabas. I look up to Djoser quite a lot... him and his vizier, of course. Imhotep. He was the one who did the most work," Ahkmen rambled as the two of you continued forward, nearing the monuments.

"... how did you.. make these?" You asked in an awestruck voice, murmuring in the presence of great beasts.

"Many years," he said, continuing on. "And much devotion."

Ahkmen went on to explain in great detail what the pyramids contained––their history, their wealth in both understanding the ancestors, as well as the wealth of treasure hidden beneath what seemed like miles of stone. He told you of the different rooms within, where offerings were still placed to this day.

Given the overwhelming size of the pyramids, it took longer than you imagined to get to the end of the long line, where the step pyramid sat. Ahkmen began to approach the tomb, but halted when he noticed you weren't at his side. Turning round, he found you stuck in place, your hands raised anxiously to your chest as you stared at the pyramid.

"Yogi?"

Nothing.

"Yogasundari, are you alright?" He tried, this time returning to you and gently pulling your hands apart, hoping to stop your straining fidgets.

"This is... a King," you said in a quiet voice, the glaze in your eyes slowly disappearing as you came to focus on him.

"Well, yes," he said with a frown. "We do have those, you know."

"Sorry, I... sorry," you murmured, and as Ahk's grip on you fell, you walked on past him towards the tomb.

"Wait," he reached for your wrist, turning you around, "are you alright?"

He had not asked you to apologize for any behavior––he had asked you if you felt okay, and that was the answer he sought.

"I am good," you assured him with a chuckle. "I am thinking on Kings and my family. I do not want to... make dirty of your Kings, but it is hard to think of Kings and to not think of family."

"Oh, don't worry about that," he said, taking your hands once more. "We're actually going to be desecrating holy ground so it's alright to say fuck you to some Kings."

Out of the two options he gave you, you decided to enter the tomb, opposed to scaling the sheen surface of polished limestone. Moonlight from a half-moon reflected off that clear stone, a light that faded away as Ahkmen led you into the earth.

Staircases upon hallways upon staircases led deep into the ground, lined with stray dust and paintings of stories Ahkmen hardly understood, let alone you. The darkness soon came to a high, leaving you in a pitch-black darkness too thick to even see each other. You stumbled forward, bumping your head on Ahk's shoulder, and letting out a small cry.

"You alright?" He said, offering his hand before remembering you would not be able to see.

"I am okay," you said, dirt and sand shuffling as you made your way back to your feet. "We need light."

"We'll find a torch soon, we can take that," Ahkmen said.

As predicted, a few steps forward with his hand running along the wall, and he found the end of a burnt out torch. At the next crossroads there would be a vat of oil, with which he could relight it.

"When the Pharaoh, Djoser, built this place," Ahkmen said as he lit the torch, holding it up to see the hieroglyphs above your heads, "he built it with temples outside, courtyards... gardens and houses. It was a city all for his death. And none of it was used until he died. All his life he built this pyramid, and never reaped the benefits."

"Why?" You asked, looking up from Djoser to him.

"It's a purpose in life. At least, that's how I see it," he said, his voice growing quieter. "I think that it is our purpose to leave this world better than when we came into it. This was simply his way of doing it."

"How will you doing it?"

"... I don't know," he murmured after a moment of silence.

His eyes fell to you, meeting your gaze as you simultaneously looked up with a special sort of adoration in the reflection of your eyes. Time paused; his heartbeat, his breath, the flame in his hand. You still waited expectantly.

"I will find my purpose someday," he said. "I'm still young."

"You will say that to the day you die."

The long hallways were much more entertaining with your sight returning, allowing you to scan and absorb the art painted on every surface. It was hard to tell who was who, but those in power were always clearly marked, and those below them would always tremble by their might. You bit the inside of your cheek, tearing your eyes away from the gory scene and following Ahkmen onwards.

"Here we reach the blue chambers," Ahkmen said, his echoing voice calling your attention away from the dark hallway walls.

You looked ahead to him, past him, to the blue strokes of paint shrouding the ceiling in midnight and stars. Your mouth fell open as you looked straight up.

A woman's body was stretched across the center plane of the room, her toes at the door and hands at the opposite end. Her skin was a deep blue, peppered with yellow, five-pointed stars. Massive jars and pots neatly filled the corners of the room, half-buried in dust, the paint still remaining on the surface. Besides that, the room remained empty, cobwebs filling the space, and dissipating wherever Ahkmen held his torch.

From here, there were two directions to choose from; left and right. Painted reeds lined the entrances, captioned by the hieroglyphs far above your head.

"Down that way is the burial vault," Ahkmen said, pointing down to the left, "and down that way is the King's apartment."

"Why would you need a apartment in a death home?"

Ahk snorted, "a tomb, you mean. It's to be used in death. Everything you are buried with comes with you in the afterlife, so those with great riches build homes they want, treasures they want to carry forever. It's a portable home."

"Hmm," you said in a detached tone, wide eyes turning back to the painted walls. "There is so much turns. I do not know how we get out."

"Ah, the layout of the pyramids remains a mystery to all but me," he said with a wide, cocky grin, throwing his arm over your shoulders. "I will lead us safely onwards."

You giggled, covering your mouth as you did. It disappointed him slightly not to see your smile, but he kept to his word, and led you down to the Pharaoh's 'apartments'. He rehearsed the correct path to the living areas, and by the time he came to the split path he recalled which turn to take.

He moved to continue quickly on, but you paused, his arm falling from your shoulders as you stood in place. That quickly caught his attention, and he returned to you.

You were staring at the wall with a furrowed brow, eyes searching the large blue tiles.

"Faience," he told you, sneaking up from behind. You jumped slightly, relaxing when you realized it was him.

"It is beautiful."

"It's meant to look like the palace," he said, easily recalling much of his studies on Imhotep's pyramid. "Mimicks the reed mats and such."

Several passageways and long, detailed hallways later, the two of you arrived in a room stacked with dark, elegant cabinets filled with everything from clothes to chairs. Red and reed carpets covered the floor, broken after their long-lived lives. As with many of the rooms and halls you'd already seen, the room was filled with vases and jars of all sizes, containing everything from honey to bits of unprocessed stone.

Being a home of sorts for the royal family from years ago, it contained a number of comfortable chairs, as well as detailed carpets both hung and set on the ground. Spiderwebs had grown over the edges, crowding the corners of the room with dusty string.

"As long as you know the paths of the pyramids, they can be a good place to find solitude. Sometimes I enjoy studying here," he said, craning his neck to look at the hieroglyphs carved onto the ceiling.

"You do work a lot, I think," you said, your shuffling feet slowly moving to the end of the room.

"Perhaps so. But you cannot claim that without acknowledging you work quite a lot, as well," he said with a smile. His amusement grew when you just nodded, pretending to understand what he had just said.

For the remainder of the evening, Ahkmen set to what he had been planning all along––distracting you from your dissipating drunken haze, as well as from the thought of your parents. Studying and researching had always done well to keep his own mind off things, so he offered the same opportunity for you.

A chart of the night sky hung above the frame of a bed, numerous blankets and pillows cast haphazardly aside upon it. You were reluctant to put any more weight on it, but Ahkmen assured you it would be fine, and pushed you to lie down, staring up at the ceiling.

"Do you see the brightest star?" He asked, climbing over you to sit on your hips, his hands on your waist.

"To that way?" You asked in return, gesturing to the right with your chin.

"Mhm. Her name is Sopdet. When she rises in the night sky in the summer, she brings with her the floods of the Nile," he said softly, creeping closer still, "and the fertility of the land. She is married to Sah, who holds yet another place in the sky. When Pharaohs die... that is where they go."

"What does Sah do?"

"He is one of the largest constellations," he said, a grin forming across his face. Ahkmen began to creep up your body, using his fingers like claws as he gripped you. "He is eaten in the morning and spit out at night––and he rises into the sky to protect his wife."

You giggled, blushing from the intense overacting of the man pinning you to the old bed.

"He is a God who sails the skies. He navigates the stars in a papyrus skiff, and the old Pharaoh's souls go with him. It is a death I yearn for," Ahkmen said, his energy suddenly cooling, his hands less grasping you and more holding you.

"I like to see the stars now. You show where they are, yes?" You asked, searching his eyes as you looked up.

Behind the faint halo of his face, the soft skin reflecting the dying light of the torch, stars painted in gold on a midnight canvas surrounded him. It was him, the life in his eyes against the eternity of the sky––distant, and far enough to only be found in the heart.

"Of course," he said with a smile, crinkling and blushing around his grey eyes.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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atths--twice · 3 years

Link

Chapter Five

December 1923

It took nearly a month to secure the preparations needed to leave Cairo and begin the journey down the Nile.

If he had not seen much of Dana before, he now saw her nearly every day.

She brought books from work, shared information she had been gathering for years, showed him maps she had copied and shared where she believed the temple of Kha’ari was located and why.

“There are big areas devoted to the more well known gods and goddesses: Luxor, Karnak… but I don’t think it’s near them. I just feel as though it’s near the Kharga Oasis,” she told him, as he walked her home after dinner at the hotel.

“The names are similar,” Fox agreed.

“True, but it’s more than similar names.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think… and, I know how it will sound, but I think that the other temples were erected in places where it may have been hard to be happy at times, but…” She paused and shook her head with a heavy sigh. “I think it’s harder to be sad in a beautiful place. To feel the weight of your heart breaking, while the day is beautiful and others around you are happy. I think a temple near an oasis, near that beauty, for a goddess of pain and suffering… that would be the perfect location. Showing that there is that beauty in the world, even when we believe it’s not possible.”

Fox stared at her, thinking of the people who may have come to the temple, leaving their offerings of thankfulness, finally able to see the beauty in the day around them, their hearts beginning to repair. He smiled and nodded, believing she had to be right, her deductions far too reasonable.

“I think that makes perfect sense,” he said softly and she smiled.

_______________________

The Lady of the Nile, was a large beautiful ship in which Fox had procured two rooms to carry them to their destination. When they had arrived that morning, Dana had stopped and stared at it and then at him.

“Our journey will take three weeks. We may as well spend it in comfort,” he had said and while she had seemed hesitant, she entered the ship with him.

The ship was even more beautiful once they were being led to their rooms. The rich colors, tapestries, and details all added to the grandeur of it. Dana kept looking all over and shaking her head, telling him how beautiful she found it.

Her room was first and when they stepped inside, she gasped. The room held a small bed, wardrobe, nightstand, oil and globe lamps. There was a sitting area with a small sofa, a table in front of it, and a sink with a chest below it.

Shelves with brackets were above the bed and along the walls to hold objects and keep them from falling. A round window, above a small bookshelf which held a decent amount of books, opened to look out onto the water. Sheer curtains hung around the bed and a large rug covered the floor.

“This room is nicer than my flat,” Dana said softly to him as she looked around, her trunk set down by the porter.

Fox smiled at her before excusing himself and continuing onto his own room. It was similar to hers, though the colors were a bit darker and instead of the small sofa, it had two comfortable looking chairs.

He unpacked his trunk, hanging up his clothes and looking around with a grin and a nod. It was all really happening.

He walked around the room, touching the books in the bookcase, the oil lamps, the curtains around the bed. With another nod, he left the room and walked to the dining room, requesting a table for dinner on the deck at sunset.

When he left, he walked back to Dana‘s room and knocked on her door. She answered, though she did not open the door fully, staying slightly hidden behind it.

“I’ve made reservations for dinner,” he said. “But I was wondering if you would like to take a tour of the ship with me.”

“Oh… yes, I would like that very much. Can I meet you in a few minutes?”

“Of course,” he agreed with a nod. “Fifteen minutes? In the main lobby?”

“Yes,” she agreed, smiling and nodding as she closed the door.

He left and walked to the bar, looking at the alcohol displayed and ordered two glasses of champagne. As it arrived, so did Dana, in a dress he had never seen before, and his heart stopped before it began to beat rapidly. Her hair was up and she looked beautiful, though slightly nervous.

“You look beautiful,” he said as she reached him.

“Thank you,” she answered with a blush on her cheeks. “My mother sent me this dress, just in case I had an occasion to wear it. I’ve had it for nearly two years and never worn it before tonight. I feel a bit unlike myself, but thought it was the right time to make use of it.”

“Indeed,” he said with a smile, the dark blue of the dress making her eyes bluer, if it were possible. “Here.” He handed her one of the glasses, clinking it with his own.

“Cheers,” she said quietly and he nodded as they took a sip. Extending his arm, she accepted it, as they turned from the bar and made their way up the stairs.

They walked around the ship, discovering the luxuries it afforded: a dining room smoking lounge for the men, a library, a salon with chairs and sofas filling the room, the gleaming windows letting in the late afternoon sun.

The deck of the ship was even better with the view of the sunset, the water, and the other small boats sailing beside them, their masts filled by the breeze.

He glanced at Dana, the loose strands of hair blowing across her face, and he smiled. Her eyes were shining and her lips curling up as she waved to him sailing past them. Under any other circumstance, he would have seen the romance of the situation. Truth be told, he was hard pressed not to see it, as the setting sun created a romantic atmosphere all its own, but he pushed those feelings aside.

“This is a beautiful ship. Far more than I was expecting,” she said and took a last drink of her champagne, the glass now empty.

“What were you expecting?” he asked, taking her glass and then draining his own.

“I… I don’t really know,” she said, leaning her arms on the railing and twirling a strand of hair, at the base of her neck, around her fingers. “I’ve… It's been a long time since I’ve been around such luxuries. My income at the museum is not large and what money I am sent from my mother, it’s not much either, and not always absolute.” He frowned and she smiled slightly. “My father didn’t want me to leave and threatened there would be no financial help from him if I did.”

“That’s…” He paused, not knowing what to say, and not wanting to insult a man he did not know.

“Not exactly the kindest, no, but it’s been cleared up. Letters and distance work wonders, you know.” She smiled at him and he frowned again. “He was worried about me on my own, and didn't want me so far from home.” She bit her bottom lip and looked away with a sigh, the wind blowing her hair across her face.

“But you know what I think?” she asked as she turned to look at him again. “Although he never says, his own letters generally short, and only a postscript added to my mother’s, I think the money is from him, but he won’t admit it. Stubbornness and not wanting to appear too soft, he will continue the charade.” Fox laughed softly and she smiled.

“My mother similarly did not want me to leave. But… after the pain and uncertainty the war caused her, I can understand.”

“Were you… shot? Your leg…” She glanced down and back up at him. “Please don’t feel you have to discuss it if you don’t-”

“No,” he interrupted, not wanting her to feel she had imposed upon him. “I wasn’t shot in my leg. I was stabbed and it became infected before I could get proper medical health. I had to spend some time in hospital correcting the mistake. I didn’t think I would go back to the front line after that, but they cleared me to return. My mothers letters were filled with her worry and anger over that decision.”

“I can understand how she feels,” Dana said quietly, her eyes downcast, fingers stroking her locket.

He felt the conversation was becoming too morose and so he suggested they continue walking and heading to dinner. She agreed and they moved on, him carrying the glasses and giving them to a server who had passed by.

Dinner was delicious, their conversation easy, but he could not help but feel something was different. She smiled and laughed, but the happiness did not quite reach her eyes.

After the meal was finished, she politely excused herself to return to her room, claiming she was tired and could do with an early night.

“Of course,” he responded with a nod, and she walked away.

Not wanting to be held within the walls of his own room just yet, he strolled around the ship again. On his second trip, he stopped at the library where he spent some time perusing the titles. Taking a book back to his room, he was determined to read as much as possible before falling asleep.

__________________

The days they spent together were different from the seemingly endless ones of planning and discussions. Then they worked tirelessly, walking to and from the library, the hotel, and her flat.

Now, they had time to relax, sleep later, lounge about if they so chose, which they did as it was a very welcome change.

They ate every meal together, learning more about one another.

She had grown up in Maryland and was the youngest of three siblings; her youngest brother dying in infancy.

Her brother, Bill, had fought in the war, coming home wounded in one eye. He handled it well, saying he could live his life with one eye as well as two. His fiancée, Adelaide, had not cared, thankful he had returned to her alive, and his children, of which he had two rambunctious boys, thought of him as a pirate.

Her sister, Melissa, was married to a very kind and quiet man, Joshua, who doted on her every need. They had three children and last she had heard, would soon be adding another.

“They are all the sweetest children, my sister's children more so, always sending me drawings and little notes. I love them all, miss them of course, but…” A hand at her throat drew his attention, but no story was forthcoming and he was left wondering about the mystery of the locket.

He told her of his life, a sometimes lonesome one without a sibling, wishing he had a playmate, but happy with his parents. His mother especially was loving and attentive and he had never lacked for anything.

“But it’s not made you as some,” Dana said and he frowned in confusion. “I mean that some people become demanding and rude, carrying their wealth as though it puts them above others. You don’t do that. You have wealth, as was obvious when I first met you, but you don’t flaunt it. It’s a part of you, but not something you think or worry about.”

“That may be the kindest way to tell someone they are a rich snob that I’ve ever heard,” he teased and she laughed, looking out at the water as they sat at a table, enjoying a drink.

Other than the discussion the first day on the ship, the war was a topic they avoided and also how she had come to be in Egypt. It hung between them, something he would not have minded discussing, but one which she obviously did not, so their conversation mostly revolved around the journey and their destination.

The ship made many stops, allowing for touring the temples. For Fox, they saw nearly enough to make it all worthwhile, even without discovering anything on their own, but knew it was not the same for Dana. Her commentary of the day as they returned to the ship and had dinner, her eyes shining, he knew she was thinking of the excitement of their own hopeful discoveries.

Luxor, Karnak and Hathor, each place was more impressive than the last. The sheer magnitude of them was daunting enough, but the details in the artwork kept him standing in one place and sketching for longer than anticipated, only stopping when Dana joined him after touring places he had missed, his attention focused on sights before him.

There were people offering their expertise as a guide, but they declined them. Dana shared everything she knew, which was quite a bit, explaining what they saw with a passion the other guides lacked. He loved listening to her speak on subjects of which she knew, her tone animated and her hands moving quickly, pointing them out with a smile, his interest piquing with every word.

They went to the Valley of the Kings, where a large crowd waited to see the tomb of King Tutankhamun. Fox felt nervous as they made their way to the front of the queue, terrified he would react the same way he had at the pyramids. It would be twice as horrifying if it were to happen in front of Dana.

As the next couple walked forward, he took a deep breath. Thinking of the fact that it had been a while since he’d had any type of an attack of panic, he felt his heart start to race.

“Fox? Are you ready?” Dana asked, breaking into his thoughts and gesturing toward the tomb.

He took a deep breath and felt the panic begin to rise, when suddenly she touched his forearm and stared into his eyes. As she did, he felt a calm wash over him, his breathing returning to normal.

“Yes,” he said, letting out his breath and swallowing down his worries. “Yes, I’m ready.” She smiled and took a step forward and he followed; down the steps and into the tomb.

_______________________

December 25, 1923

Off the ship and now staying at a hotel in Luxor, Fox dressed for dinner, tying his tie before he put on his jacket and walked out of the room.

Tomorrow would begin their day of preparation. They would be meeting with the men who would be joining them on their expedition. Food would be acquired, tools, clothes, tents, and any other items they would need.

Fox was excited, but also nervous, hoping they would truly find what they imagined was somewhere out in the middle of the desert. Tonight though, he and Dana were having dinner and celebrating the holiday.

Nearly a month on a ship, he was glad to be in a place which sat on solid ground. The ship had been large and comfortable, the river calm, but he still preferred to be on dry land.

Down the stairs, he stood waiting in the main lounge area for Dana. She did not keep him waiting long and when he saw her coming down the stairs, he drew in a deep breath.

Wearing the same dark blue dress as she had their first night on the ship. Her hair was up, though in a slightly different style, and his let out his breath when she reached him. He smiled, unable to take his eyes off of her.

“You’ve managed to make that dress even more beautiful the second time. You quite literally took my breath away.” He smiled again and she looked down, her cheeks pink, before raising her eyes to his and smiling.

“Thank you. You look very nice too,” she said and he nodded as he extended his arm to her. She took it and they walked into the dining room.

The room was large, with a dance floor in the middle, and tables around the edges, covered with white tablecloths. Candles lit around the room and sitting on the tables, gave it an inviting feeling.

“It’s beautiful in here,” Dana said, the orchestra in the corner beginning to play softly as they sat down.

“It is,” Fox agreed, looking around and smiling. “I think what I like best though, is that we aren’t on a moving ship. This room, being stationary, makes me very happy.” Dana laughed, picking up the menu from beside her plate.

Their food orders were given and as the waiter left them, he looked at the orchestra, his foot tapping the floor beneath the tablecloth. Turning his head, he looked back at Dana who smiled at him.

“I want to thank you, Dana,” he said quietly and she seemed surprised at his words. He drew a breath, about to speak, when the waiter arrived with a bottle of wine, filling their glasses. “A toast. To the journey on which we are about to embark, all we have seen, and to one another.” She raised her glass and tapped it to his, her eyes shining.

God, she’s beautiful, he thought, the dress and style of her hair accentuating her beauty.

When they had eaten, and the dishes cleared away, they rose to leave. Her eyes followed the dancing couples as they glided past, smiling and laughing.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked and she shook her head, clasping her hands in front of her. “A walk around the grounds of the hotel perhaps?” She smiled in agreement and they began to walk.

“Fox,” she said softly, her eyes on his. “I have thoroughly enjoyed the last few weeks. I’ve lived here for over three years and I have not had the opportunity to travel as we have done. I knew it was there, but the cost was beyond my means. Here I was in a place I had wanted to visit most of my life and I was stuck in one place.” She smiled at him, reaching for his arm and slipping her hand into the crook of it. “I never imagined I would be here, on the brink of doing what I set out to accomplish.” She stopped walking and held tight to his arm, forcing him to also stop. Staring at him, she smiled again.

“Thank you, Fox.”

“It has been my pleasure,” he whispered with a slight nod. “I have enjoyed the past few weeks as well. Immensely.” Placing his other hand over hers, he squeezed gently.

“And now I must express my appreciation. Thank you,” he said quietly and she shook her head. “No. I do thank you. If it was not you who answered my first letter, I would not have been as intrigued to come here. To not only see all that we have, but to meet and thank the person behind the pen. I’m so glad it was you. Thank you, Miss Scully.”

She blinked her eyes rapidly, though he could see the tears shining in them. He squeezed her hand again, let go and took a handkerchief from his pocket, handing it to her as they began to resume walking.

The music from the dining room could be heard through the open windows as they walked past and he stopped. Turning his face to her, he raised his eyebrows, asking silently if she would like to dance. She nodded and he took back his handkerchief, placing it into his pocket.

Holding out a hand, she took it and he pulled her close, waiting to feel the rhythm of the music.

“I’m not always good with the quicker steps, but I’ll try my best,” he confessed and she smiled.

“I’m not a great dancer myself. Please don’t feel worried,” she whispered. He smiled with a nod, his leg the furthest thing from his mind as he held her in his arms and they twirled, her laughter ringing through the air.

They stumbled only a couple of times, both apologizing and then laughing harder, but they kept dancing until the music stopped, with applause following.

Catching their breath, he looked at her and without thinking if it was the right thing to do, he leaned forward and kissed her softly, surprising both of them. He began to pull back, his apology already forming in his mind, when her grip tightened and she kissed him.

As quickly as it began, it stopped. She pushed away from him, her eyes wide.

“I… I’m sorry,” she breathed, a hand going to the locket at her throat. “I…” She shook her head and stepped back, walking away quickly.

“Dana… Please don’t leave,” he called after her, but she kept walking and he did not chase after her, knowing it was not what she wanted nor what he should do.

The music began to play again, happy and festive, the diners applauding, laughter echoing through the windows. He felt no such joy, only worry and confusion. Less than a minute ago he had been happy, and now he stood alone, the memory of her kiss still lingering on his lips.

#The X-Files #XF Fiction #Alternate Universe #Historical AU #Egypt #Getting To Know Each Other #Beginning Of The Journey #New Relationship

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bitchin-beskar · 4 years

Text

Spidey Sense

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: So the original prompt for this was something along the lines of: "hey, what if Joe and Nicky keep pictures of each other in their wallets to remind them of why they're doing this whenever they have to be apart" and this was born from that. Enjoy!

Tags: @theocatkov, @cosmicbug379, @marydjarin @perropascal

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my works!

Please like and reblog! I love feedback!!!

Gazing down at the image of the love of his life, forever immortalized by his hand, never failed to bring a smile to Joe’s lips. His drawings would never be as magnificent, as breathtaking as looking at Nicky with his own two eyes, but whenever they were apart, he had to make do with images drawn by his hand.

Slipping the small slip of paper back into his wallet, Joe flipped it shut and slid it into one of his many pockets. He hated going on missions without Nicky, but this particular job had required his expertise in infiltrating one building while Nicky’s skills as a sniper were required four blocks away. It was unfortunate, but not the first time it had happened, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

When Copley had informed them of the job, he’d made sure they knew that he’d been unable to get any estimates on the number of guards they’d have to deal with. It made Joe uneasy, but they’d gone through with it anyways. Some tech company was trying to use their software to hack into the Pentagon to steal the locations of missile silos located all over the US. The government was very concerned about this threat, and so Copley had called them in.

Joe was supposed to create a distraction at the main headquarters, drawing the company’s attention and thus, allowing Nicky to eliminate guards at the warehouse that housed the company's main servers, which would then allow Nile and Booker to get in and plant explosives. Boom! No more servers, no more threat.

Nicky had been worried about Joe causing a distraction when they didn’t know the amount of guards, but Joe had tried to soothe his beloved’s fears as best he could.

“Habibi,” he’d said, hand resting on Nicky’s waist, holding him close. “I will be fine. And if anything were to go wrong, I know that you will not allow them to hold me for long.”

Nicky had leaned his forehead against Joe’s, one of his many, silent, I love you’s that he bestowed upon Joe throughout the day. “I would prefer it if nothing goes wrong.”

“As would I.”

***

Nicky had been right to worry, and Joe knew he would never hear the end of it. There had been twice as many guards as Copley’s estimate, and even with Joe’s healing, and centuries worth of experience, he’d quickly been overwhelmed. They’d knocked him out–although, perhaps they’d killed him, Joe wasn’t entirely sure–and when he woke, he was chained to a metal chair, bolted in the middle of an all white room.

His first thought had been something along the lines of how poor of a choice it was to put him in an all white room, as it undoubtedly would become quite the grotesque scene when Nicky arrived. Blood clashed so horribly on white walls, and Nicky could get quite ferocious whenever Joe was threatened.

His second thought was on the fact that even while bound, he could tell that his wallet was no longer in his pocket. That, in of itself was of no consequence, practically everything in it was fake–it was hard to have valid ID’s and such when you were an immortal warrior born nine hundred years ago–but there was one precious item in that wallet.

The drawing of Nicky was one of many, but that didn’t mean it was any less special. Joe had saved every single scrap of paper he’d ever drawn Nicky’s likeness on, and while some had aged beyond recognition, he hadn’t had the heart to let any of them go. He knew that Nicky similarly had many, many photographs and paintings of him. Nicky always professed that he wasn’t as artistically inclined as Joe, but every time Nicky sketched him, Joe could see the love and care that went into each piece of art, and he fell in love with Nicky all over again.

He was jolted out of his musings by the door opening violently, slamming against the wall. He didn’t react outwardly, instead analyzing each of the men that walked into the room. Ten men entered, the last, an older man with grey in his hair, shut the door behind him, making a show of locking it. Joe wanted to scoff. These men didn’t intimidate him in the slightest, and they would have to try a lot harder if they wanted to get a reaction out of him.

“Who sent you?”

Joe laughed. So this is how they were doing this. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man scowled, the expression twisting his features into a mask of hatred. “I don’t like your attitude, kid.”

Joe laughed even harder at that, his body shaking with mirth, although his eyes were cold as ice. “I’m not quite as young as I look,” he chuckled under his breath, watching as the other men shuffled awkwardly. They clearly feared the older man, and he could see in some of their eyes that they feared for him if he continued to antagonize their leader.

There was a sharp crack, and Joe’s head snapped to the side, the backhand delivered with an impressive amount of force. It might’ve hurt, if Joe hadn’t lived as long as he had, and had experienced far worse. Still, he kept up appearances. The longer these men were unaware of his healing and his immortality, the better.

“Who sent you?”

Joe grins, the perfect picture of innocence. “Who says anyone sent me? Perhaps I decided to come all by myself?” He probably shouldn’t be antagonizing this man, but he’s having too much fun.

The man snaps his fingers, and one of the other men rushes forward to hand him something. Joe recognizes it as his wallet, watching as the man flips through it, pulling out his driver’s license. “Joseph Jones? Is that even your name?” The man scoffs. “Why were you trying to break in?”

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to break in.” The man looks confused for all of two seconds before Joe opens his mouth again. “I’d already broken in. Your men found me after I got in.” Joe can’t help but brag a little, because, well, their security was shit, but also because he was trying to stall for time, so that Nile and Booker could get in and out without any issues. “You really shouldn’t have picked white walls you know, white stains so easily–”

He gets another backhand for his efforts, and the man in front of him actually growls. He goes back to pawing through Joe’s wallet, and Joe can feel his heart stop when the man pulls out Joe’s drawing of Nicky.

The man looks at it, and it’s clear he doesn’t know what to think at first. He studies the drawing, and Joe can feel sparks of anger igniting in his chest, although he tries not to show it. The man suddenly laughs, and it’s a cruel, mocking laugh. He shoves the drawing at one of the other men before turning back to Joe, a cruel smirk on his face.

“How cute,” he sneers. “Mr. Jones keeps a picture of his boyfriend in his wallet.” The man spits on the ground at Joe’s feet. “God, that’s disgusting.”

Anger clouds Joe’s vision, bubbling up in his chest like rising magma before bursting forth from his mouth before he can stop it.

“Boyfriend? Boyfriend? Nicolo is not my boyfriend,” he spits, fire burning in his eyes. “You are a narrow-minded, childish, little man. Nicolo means more to me than all the stars in the sky. He has been my light, my heart, for over nine hundred years, and he will continue to be my light and my heart for nine hundred more. I have fought a thousand battles by his side, I have gone to war to protect him just as he has for me. There will always be those who try to separate us, those who cannot possibly understand the depth of my love for that man, and yet,” he pauses, a dark smirk on his face as some of the men step back in fear. “Those who try always end up dead. No, Nicolo is not my boyfriend. He’s all and he’s more.”

***

Nicky was in the middle of dismantling his rifle when he felt it. It didn’t even take him a moment before he recognized the feeling. It was the feeling he always got whenever Joe would make grand declarations of love, which, admittedly, happened quite often. While Nicky was more reserved when it came to lyrical speeches, Joe had no such qualms, and would gladly shout to the heavens–and had done so, multiple times–about his love for Nicky.

Just as he was reaching for his phone to call Copley–because clearly something had to be wrong if Joe was waxing poetic about Nicky when Nicky wasn’t even in the same building–the phone buzzed.

Nicky didn’t even have time to greet Copley before the man was launching into an explanation. “Nicky, I’m sorry, there were too many guards, Joe’s been captured. They’re holding him somewhere in the building, but I don’t have eyes inside.”

“I’m on my way.”

Sending a quick message to Nile and Booker, informing them of what happened, Nicky finished packing up his gear quickly, leaving his spot on the roof and descending the fire escape as fast–and safely, he’d be no good to Joe if he executed a swan dive off the fifth story–as possible.

***

Joe could feel his mouth filling with blood, so he leaned forward and spat some on the ground. Apparently the older man hadn’t been too pleased with being insulted, and he ordered his men to get answers out of Joe, while he watched.

The beating, while not one of the worst he’d experienced, had not been pleasant. Thankfully, the men hadn’t seemed to realize Joe was slowly healing from their attacks, but sooner or later they would get suspicious. He hoped one of the others would get here before that happened, he really didn’t like dying alone.

He’d just been punched repeatedly in the stomach when the man doing said punching stopped. Joe was confused, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about a reprieve.

“What?” Barked the older man, pushing himself off the wall and stalking forward. “What is it?” The younger man shook his head, looking around.

“Did anyone else–?”

He cuts off when a loud bang sounds from outside the door. All of the men turn to look at the door, missing as a smile spreads across Joe’s bloody lips. Another bang sounds, louder than before, closer than before, and some of the men jump.

“What do you think it is?” One of them whispers, and before anyone can answer, something heavy slams into the bolted door from the outside. The whole door seems to shake in it’s frame, and it’s only made worse by the sudden scream of pain.

There’s a sudden onslaught of noise, bangs, screams, gunshots, and crashes and–was that a cat screeching? The men all back away slowly from the door, hands on their weapons, but nothing could have prepared them for the way the door was blasted off its hinges, flying into the room and taking out two of the men.

There’s a sudden burst of gunfire, taking out three more of the men before they can react. Watching their companions fall around them, the remaining four men all aim for the door, shooting wildly at a target they can’t even see. The older man, the leader, unlocks Joe’s cuffs only to pull him upright, pressing a knife against his neck, using Joe’s body as a human shield.

Joe rolls his eyes. If only this man knew how ineffective Joe would be at being a human shield. He watches with interest as the men stop firing, only for a knife to fly through the air and embed itself in one of the guard’s skulls. The others start firing again, but even though it's three against one, they’re no match for a furious Nicolo di Genova. Bursting into the room in a flurry of movement, Joe watches, fascinated–and more than a little turned on–as Nicky becomes a whirlwind, attacking violently with his longsword, cutting down the three men–with violent efficiency–who stand between him and Joe.

The older man presses his blade tighter against Joe’s neck, but Nicky doesn’t even blink. Joe stomps on the man’s foot, and Nicky puts a bullet in his brain, quick as you please. The knife cuts Joe as he moves, but it’s certainly not life-threatening, so he’s unconcerned.

Joe looked around the room, taking in the blood and guts and gore that decorate the white walls and floor and ceiling. “I told them that white was a bad choice, blood stands out far too much–” Nicky strides across the room, and kisses Joe hard, before he can get another word out. Joe grasps Nicky’s face with his blood covered hands, bringing him even closer, moaning as his beloved steals the breath from his lungs.

Nicky pulls away, but only just, his forehead resting against Joe’s. “Yusuf, amore mio, are you badly hurt?” His eyes rove over Joe’s face, checking for any and all injuries.

“No, habibi,” Joe sighs. “The marks those men left are quickly fading. I am alright.” Nicky kisses Joe again, uncaring of the fact that Joe’s lips still taste of blood.

They stand there for longer than they probably should, and when they finally part, Joe asks the question that had been pestering him since he first became aware of Nicky’s arrival. “How did you know so quickly, Nicolo? They’ve had me for less than an hour.”

The look on Nicky’s face is one of fond exasperation, one that Joe has been privy to many, many times. “You were being incurably romantic again, weren’t you?”

Joe grins, his eyes shining as he looks at his love. “They dared insult you in my presence, hayati. Besides, you love it.”

Nicky sighs. “I do.”

Joe cups his face once more and kisses him, pouring nine hundred years of love and affection and desire into the kiss. He would defend his Nicolo to the ends of the earth, against anyone and anything that dared try to come between them.

***

“I do not understand, Nile. Why do you keep referring to me as a cross between a human and an arachnid?”

“You have spidey sense Nicky, of course I’m going to call you Spiderman! Except instead of sensing danger, you sense whenever Joe’s delivering a love speech worthy of Shakespeare!”

“Hey! Do not compare me to that jumped-up English playwright–”

“Shut up, Joe!”

#The Old Guard #Joe x Nicky #Fluff #Not even really any angst #Like joe gets captured?#but he's not worried?#joe is an incurable romantic #nicky loves it #nile thinks it's fucking hilarious #writing #fics

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llogllady99 · 3 years

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Crimson Red: Prologue

CHARACTERS | Levi, Erwin, Petra, Hange, Moblit, Mike, Nanaba, Eld, Oluo, Gunther, Kenny, Erwin’s Father, Kuchel, Frieda Reiss, Nile Dok, Yelena, Marie

RELATIONSHIPS | Levi x Erwin

GENRE | Mystery, Thriller, Romance, Dark Academia

IV | Blood and gore, Blood and violence, Alternate universe - modern setting/high school/ boarding school, angst and fluff and smut, knife kink, knife play, drama & romance, eventual romance, eventual smut, emotional manipulation, cults, rituals

SUMMARY | Sina Academy of Excellence and Inquiry is the best boarding school in all of England, producing over time leaders of Nations and outstanding personalities in society as well as being the perfect environment for your child to flourish in, spending his time with specially trained staff to support his need and wonderful, well behaved peers like him. We only have two rules: don't go in the woods and do not try to go through locked doors.

From the statement above one would have assumed that Sina was the perfect school and that the rules that were imposed were just for their children's safety, but as Levi joins the school at the beginning of his senior year, he uncovers a secret so putrid and morbid that will leave him scared for life. That is...if he manages to make it out alive.

Chapter song: God rest ye merry gentleman - Pentatonix (slowed & reverb)

December 21st, 1995 Yule Festival

If you asked Erwin Smith what his plans were for the celebration of Yule, as he always remained on campus over the holidays, he would have told you that he were to be found cozying up on the lilac couch by the fire, basking in the heat emanated by the hearth, and enjoying one of those contemporary novels meant for mass consumption and reading the evening away in the dorms of the Boethiah house. Later, if he felt up to it, he would trek happily across the dark vaulted corridors of the academy to the bathing rooms and relax into one of the immense thermae alone, sans the forever present havoc caused by the agglomeration of teenage boys during early school mornings. What he would not have answered was: his girlfriend was to be killed tonight by no one other than him. Sweet Marie will meet her end tonight, scarlet and thick blood gushing out of her freshly sliced neck.

Flicking his wrist, slightly pulling back his navy blue Tudor coat, Erwin checked the time. It was 22:59. If he were to meet Marie in the next minute, then he wouldn’t have to worry about getting to the crypts on time, but he could always improvise - the campus being almost abandoned at this time of night with no students lurking around - and kill Marie right in their meeting spot, in front of all the security cameras and the dining hall’s high arched and trellised windows slowly breaking each of her limbs, while the poor creature tries to crawl herself out of the situation, blood curling screams sounding into the night, while finally being abruptly cut off by Erwin twisting her neck. But no, he had to be careful, his father would take care of the security cameras but if there would have been prying ears and eyes in the dining hall, then he wouldn’t have gotten away so easily. It was a dark, dull, and soundless night with clouds hanging so oppressively low in the sky, they produced thick white fog that snaked its way between the alleyways and immense gothic buildings. One street lamp was the only thing that lighted the small plaza in front of the four adjacent dorm rooms, its golden light resting on Erwin’s figure, revealing the soft blonde hair, determined and ruthless sapphire eyes, strong jawline, and tall, well built body. He was dressed casually, wearing his most comfortable clothes: jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He was supposed to be spending the evening with Marie up in his dorm room, enjoying some cheesy and petty romcom broadcasted on the TV, and more formal wear would disrupt the cozy atmosphere that would supposedly settle between them, that and blood would be a bitch to get out of them.

Huffing in frustration, Erwin checked the time again: 23:05. If Marie didn’t show up then it would have all been for nothing. However, just as he was making up his mind to go after her, the girl exited her dorm room and with a wide grin, spreading from cheek to cheek on her sweet face, ran into Erwin’s arms. He snorted and greeted her.

“Hello sweet lover, I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t show up tonight.”

“I’m terribly sorry, dear Erwin, but I might have had a change of mind regarding the outfit I was to wear tonight.” Marie chuckled as she let him go, settling back down on her feet. In the golden light, the girl was beautiful, her long blonde hair sitting comfortably on her dainty shoulders, her eyes shining almost green as blue mixed with yellow from the light, her cheekbones were high, just like his, and her lips rosy red. Erwin almost regretted having to kill her, but it was for the sake of everyone around him. It was his duty as head boy, as a son, and as a student to steal this girl’s life. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her plush like lips and with a smile, grabbed her hand and began leading her into the direction of his dorm. His dorm was a just across the plaza in front of her own building. So with long hurried steps across the grass, they reached the entrance. All of the buildings were linked together in a square.

“Where’s the rush Erwin? Are you really so excited by our casual night in?” Chuckled Marie and hurried her pace to match his.

“Certainly,” answered Erwin, not even paying attention to her.

“The hallways are unusually quiet, so is the campus. Don’t you think it’s strange dear, that not even the staff seem to be present?” Continued Marie.

“Well, it’s almost Christmas, it suppose it would be kind of sad if they were to be hanging around campus instead of enjoying their time with their families. After all, they’re humans, just like me and you.” Erwin tried to answer her question, growing more annoyed by the second.

Finally they reached his room, and like the gentleman he was opened the door for his girlfriend, letting her in. It was the first time that Marie entered his room, so with a bit of excitement the girl started wandering through it, stopping to admire the little trinkets he had placed randomly around his room, like the telescope that was facing his window, or various maps that laid, carefully rolled and tied with black string. Erwin lingered behind the door and scanned his room looking for his weapon: a wooden baseball bat, scratched, chipped and stained red, that happen to be positioned right in the left corner of the room, closest to the door. He went and picked it up, gently trailing his fingertips over the rough surface. Giving it a few experimental swings, he called out to Marie as he was slowly approaching her.

“Like what you see, Marie?”

“Indeed, you have a lot of interesting things lying around here, but I can’t help but wonder if you would be so kind as to turn on the light.” She chuckled and slightly bent down to examine the telescope.

“It’s not necessary for what’s to come.” Erwin replied, and with a smile approached the girl in hurried steps, building momentum.

“Erwin?” Marie slowly tried to turn around as she was startled by his reply. “What’s that supposed to me-“ She tried asking, but before she could finish her sentence, the bat collided with her skull, breaking it to a million pieces. With a loud thud, the cadaver collapsed to the floor. Erwin sighed, it required so much work to kill somebody: drawing the victim in, killing it, carrying the body, and getting rid of it. He would have to talk with his father about getting a payment or some kind of reward out of it.

Rubbing away some of his sweat from his forehead, Erwin bent down and grabbed the body, throwing it over his shoulder, wincing slightly as the weight collapsed onto him. Satisfied, Erwin made his way out of the dorm room and into the darkness of the hallway, his whistling the only thing perturbing the eerie silence that settled over the school as if in mourning of their newly lost peer.

Twilight enveloped the academy. Combinations of blue, lavender, and light pink reflected off the Chapel’s pointed arches, ribbed vaults, and sipping in through the stained glass windows that adjourned each side of the building as Erwin made his way out and down the vibrant green lawn, his footsteps levelling the grass where he stepped and the lifeless cadaver still slumped over his shoulder. It had served his purpose and it was now time to get rid of it. Quickening his pace, he headed to the woods right behind the Chapel. This was his least favourite part of his job. The forest was dense and light could barely pass through the crowns and branches of the trees. Nevertheless, the trees were lanky, twisted in unnatural ways with branches sharp like knives. The bark was a dark brown, with a coarse texture, which could scratch and cut if the individual touching it was not being careful. However, what unnerved Erwin gravely was not only the eerie darkness that seemed to swallow the forest but also the absence of fauna in it. Sighing deeply, he proceeded to walk into the forest.

Erwin could have sworn the greenwood was like a warm hole. Every time he went through it, time seemed to stop, the existence of anything beside the forest seemed to be erased, leaving him wandering through the gloomy sea of trees, desperate for an escape. After what seemed like an eternity, Erwin started to notice the outline of hundreds of newly dug out graves, each with a big pile of freshly turnt earth, especially made so that bodies like this could be dumped in easily and covered just as easily. The sight helped him ease his nerves a little bit. Unconsciously, he quickened his pace. This was the first sign that he was close to the graveyard. He soon found himself at the edge of the forest once more.

Not wasting anymore time, Erwin walked to the edge of the cemetery, at the farthest of graves he hoisted the corpse up and tossed it lackadaisically into its final resting place. With a frustrated sigh, he picked up the spade and started to dump the soil over it. The corpse looked nothing like Marie anymore, her clothes, once spotless and emanating the sweetest of scents, were now covered in blood, and her skin, once a beautiful olive yellow was now waxy white, every drop of blood squeezed out of her right through the wide open wound on her neck. The soil got stuck in her hair, painting the blonde brown, in her eyes, filling the glassy stare with bits of gravel and dirt, slowly covering and erasing every evidence of her existence. With one final flick of spade, Erwin managed to cover up the body completely. Breathing heavily from the exertion, and dumping one crimson red rose on the grave, he opened his mouth and voiced his last words to her.

“Merry Christmas and Happy Yule, may you rest in peace, Marie.”

Notes:

I do not own Attack on titan or any of the characters in the show or related to it!!

I really hoped you like it, if you did please stick around as there will be more where that came from!

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super-dinosaurs-writing · 4 years

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Mortality

So The Old Guard. Literally the best action movie of the year. (Thanks for doing it right, Netflix). Also, I can’t stop getting these two immortal boyfriends who met in the Crusades out of my head. Their relationship is so good and healthy and overall just really well written so of course it sparked this. Enjoy!

(Nicky x Joe--The Old Guard (Netflix 2020))

*****

Nile, Nicky, and Joe were staying at an abandoned church on the coast of Greece when it happened. The door blew off its hinges and the room filled with smoke. They scrambled for cover by the hazy light cast from the TV and a few lights along the walls.

Someone grabbed Nicky and he struggled to break free, but they jammed a taser into his spine. He tried to call out as they clamped a heavy gloved hand over his mouth.

“Nicolo!” Joe shouted through the smoke.

Run, Nicky thought, hoping someone in the cosmos would send him the message.

He blacked out as they dragged him away, only to wake up in a lab strapped to a chair. He began to have flashbacks to all those years ago at Merrick Pharmaceuticals, his breath quickening in his chest.

“Hey,” Nile’s voice said from somewhere to his left. “Nicky, breathe.”

Slowly, his breathing steadied. Once he got a good look at the lab around them, he strained against his bonds. Shooting pain in his right wrist stopped him.

“Ah,” he gasped, staring at his swollen arm, the bones slowly, painfully cracking back into place. It was taking too long.

“What is it?” Nile asked.

“My wrist,” he breathed.

“They threw you into the van pretty hard,” she explained. “But that was hours ago. Shouldn’t it have--”

“It should have,” Nicky muttered, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“Nicky--”

He didn’t say anything as he closed his eyes and muttered a prayer in Italian. Hoping desperately that the same thing wasn’t happening to Joe, that he had gotten away.

“Did you see Joe?” he whispered when he had finished, refusing to let his tears betray him. “Did he get out?”

“No,” she said. “No, I didn’t see him.”

Nicky swore in Italian as a metal door in front of them slid open. A woman in a lab coat over a belted red dress entered the lab ahead of a man in black combat gear hefting a rifle in his hands.

“Welcome,” the woman said, her voice dripping in honey. “I am Dr. Richards, head of Richards Medical. My husband is the CEO. You’ll be meeting him later.”

Nicky took note of the handgun hanging from her belt.

“I must admit, I was hoping for someone else,” she said, approaching Nicky’s right side. “But you two will have to do for now until we find her instead.”

“Who were you hoping for?” Nile asked.

“A friend of yours. I believe her name is Andy. At least it is in this century.”

“Andromache is dead,” Nicky spat.

The doctor slapped him across the face. “Don’t lie to me.”

“We buried her yesterday,” he explained. “And you insult her memory.”

“Then I’ll have to test my theories on you instead,” she said, setting her jaw.

Nicky braced himself as she grabbed a scalpel from a tray nearby. Carefully, she drew a long but shallow cut along his forearm. Then she waited. Nothing happened.

“Why aren’t you healing?” she hissed, drawing another cut parallel to the first.

“Everything living must die, Doctor,” Nicky said, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

“And what about you?” the doctor spit at Nile. “Are you dying, too?”

The doctor was about to come around Nicky and try the scalpel on Nile when they heard gunfire outside the door. Nicky turned his head and locked eyes with Nile as the armed guard went for the door. The heavy sheet of metal exploded, throwing the guard back and knocking him unconscious. Joe and Booker appeared from the clearing smoke.

Nicky felt something cold at his temple. The doctor held her pistol to his head, staring them down fearfully. They kept their guns raised at her.

“Come closer and I’ll shoot him,” she spat.

Booker scoffed, a sly smile on his face, but something else played behind Joe’s eyes.

“Yusuf,” Nicky said, locking eyes with Joe, the gun still pressed to his head, his tears finally betraying him. He spoke in Arabic, a language they rarely used with each other. “I love you, always.”

He watched as Joe’s eyes tracked the two perfect parallel lines on Nicky’s arm, still bleeding, refusing to heal.

“Amore mio, non mi lasciare,” Joe breathed. My love, don’t leave me. He held up his hands, dropping his gun to the floor. “Booker, put the gun down.”

“Are you crazy?” Booker hissed.

“Put it down,” Joe said sternly, his eyes never leaving Nicky’s. “He’s mortal.”

Realization fell on Booker’s face, not even his jealousy getting the best of him. He placed his gun on the floor and held his hands up.

“Have a seat, gentlemen,” the doctor said, using one hand to gesture toward two more chairs, the other still held the gun to Nicky’s head. Joe took the chair next to Nicky, Booker on his other side.

“Now that that’s settled,” Dr. Richards said, finally pulling the gun away and placing it back at her belt, “let’s get started changing the face of modern medicine, shall we?”

Luckily, she had made a mistake. She put her gun away before restraining the others.

Joe sat up and punched her across the jaw. She managed to get one swing at his face, but he was quick to take the handgun from her belt. Two shots went off and she was down before Booker could even get out of his chair to help.

“You’re alright?” Joe whispered as he removed the straps over Nicky’s arms.

He nodded, pulling him down to kiss him as soon as his hands were free. When they parted, Nicky ran his thumb under the gash on Joe’s cheek. The diamond on the doctor’s wedding ring must have caught against his skin when she swung at him. It was a small wound that should have healed in seconds but seemed to refuse.

“You too?” Nicky whispered.

“Me too,” Joe agreed, touching their foreheads together.

“Alright lovebirds,” Booker said after undoing Nile’s restraints, “time to go.”

Joe kissed Nicky quickly before helping him to his feet.

“Booker, aren’t you supposed to have another fifty years?” Nicky teased as he found a roll of bandages to quickly wrap around his bleeding arm--something he hadn’t done in nearly a thousand years.

“I needed the help,” Joe cut in.

“It’s good to see you,” Nile said.

They took the elevator down and left through the front door, walking out alive and together. Cars with flashing lights and sirens could be heard just as they rounded the corner--Nile already on the phone with Copley, explaining that they would need a pretty big cover-up for this one.

The sun was up and people were beginning to go about their day, unaware of what had happened only hours ago. They stopped for coffee and breakfast on their way back to the church.

“So you’re both mortal now?” Nile asked quietly after their waitress had cleared their plates.

“We are,” Nicky said, squeezing Joe’s hand under the table.

“Why now?” she said. “You’re younger than Andy was.”

Joe shrugged. “I’m not sure we’ll ever know why.”

“But I’m glad it happened at the same time,” Nicky said.

“Me too,” Joe kissed him on the cheek. “Now we can grow old together.”

“You’re so romantic it’s disgusting,” Booker said into his coffee cup.

“What are you going to do now?” Nile asked.

“Not sure yet,” Joe shrugged.

They all went quiet as their waitress returned their check and told them to have a nice day.

When they were back on the street, they just stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. This was different than when it was just Andy. With her, they knew she would fight by their sides until the very end. But Joe and Nicky had each other.

“So this is it, then?” Booker asked, the first one to break their silence.

“This is it,” Nicky agreed. They hugged each other, Nile wiping at tears in the corners of her eyes.

“Take care of each other,” Joe said to them.

“We will,” Nile said.

With that, they parted ways, hoping they would somehow see each other again soon.

“Where would you like to go first?” Joe asked, putting his arm around Nicky as they walked.

“I was thinking Malta,” Nicky grinned.

“Malta?” Joe mused. “You read my mind.”

#the old guard #nicky x joe #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #netflix #fanfic #writing #my writing

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nickydestati · 4 years

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duolingo tog prompts #7

this was taken from the story module ‘saturday night’ and i got really carried away so it is a solid 1.8k, you have been warned

prompt: saturday night (sabato sera)

***

joe’s heart never fails to go batshit insane as soon as he lays eyes on nicky. you would think that after three years of friendship and one year of seeing each other almost every day, one would get used to the sight of another person, of a friend. turns out that isn’t necessarily the case.

but it’s this ridiculously exaggerated reaction of his heart that tells him nicky isn’t only a friend. or that he at least wishes he isn’t. of course, nile is very ardent about pointing it out to him whenever the occasion arises as well.

it seems nile and his heart have finally gotten through to him, though, because when he walks past one of the posters for a concert that litter the campus walls lately, he stops and reads it. it’s a stylish poster, simple and elegant, the work of someone who knows what they’re doing. a white double-sided axe stands against a black background, beneath it is written: ‘the old guard’ along with the venue, date and other details. he remembers nile saying something about it being a perfect date opportunity.

joe takes a picture and when he gets back to his dorm room, he buys two tickets before he can change his mind. it’s only when he has the order confirmation that he thinks he maybe should’ve checked if the band is any good. he shrugs, even if it happens to be the worst band in existence, at least they’ll have something to laugh about afterwards.

he meets nicky the next day for lunch, like they meet every day, and his heart practically leaps out of his chest when nicky smiles and waves at him. they talk about classes and work while they eat. or rather, nicky talks and joe nervously picks at his food thinking he should ask now. no, now. come on, now. why is it so hard? he has asked nicky to go do something a thousand times before.

“-and then the raccoon jumped through the window in a superhero costume and ate my assignment.”

joe looks up with a frown. “raccoon?”

nicky snorts. “there you are. what’s on your mind?”

joe looks away, pursing his lips. okay, now. “a date.”

nicky’s fork falls in his plate and he fumbles to pick it up again, not meeting joe’s eyes. “a date?” he clears his throat. “i didn’t know you had a date.”

“well no, not yet. i mean a date as in a… as in a you-and-me-date.” what is happening to him? usually he’s so good with words.

nicky looks at him in confusion. “a you-and-me-hang-out-as-we-always-do-date?”

“no,” joe says slowly, really wishing the firealarm would go off or something so they could both flee for their lives. “kind of a you-and-me-date-date. there’s a band playing this saturday and i thought it might be, you know, fun to go,” he quickly continues before nicky can speak. “they’re called the old guard and i’ve already bought tickets so it would be kind of a shame to waste them.”

“this saturday? i’m afraid i already have plans, i’m so sorry.”

“oh,” joe says very eloquently. “oh, yeah, no sure.”

“i planned on working for my thesis this weekend,” nicky explains with a very apologetic look on his face that makes it somehow even worse. “i’m behind on my schedule, you know.”

“no of course, that’s alright. school’s more important.” joe stuffs rice in his mouth so the disappointment won’t show on his face. nicky could’ve just told him he didn’t want to go on a date with him, they’ve always been honest with each other. and joe had really thought... hoped... stupid, stupid.

“i’m sorry, i gotta go to class now. see you tomorrow?” nicky is already getting up. probably desperate to get away.

joe squeezes out a smile. it hurts his cheeks. “see you tomorrow.”

“i’ve heard they’re really good, thanks for taking me,” nile says excitedly as they enter the venue. it’s already pretty crowded so they stand almost all the way to the back.

“of course,” joe says.

nile must’ve noticed the lingering sadness in his voice, though, because she says, “hey, i’m sure he really had planned to work on his thesis. you know how he gets when a deadline is drawing near.”

“yeah, you’re probably right,” joe says with a shrug and tries to forget the fact he has barely seen nicky since their fatal lunch.

they talk of other things until the lights in the audience dim and the spots on stage turn on. the crowd cheers wildly as the band members enter the stage, and joe is surprised to discover they are friends of his. andy takes place behind the drum, quynh picks up a shining red guitar and booker a dark green bass guitar.

“hm, i didn’t know they had a band,” he mutters to nile. though he faintly recalls them talking about rehearsals.

then the singer comes on stage and joe’s heart stops working altogether. he’s standing a far way off, but he would recognise those broad shoulders anywhere, that step as he walks to the mic, that brown hair.

“is that nicky?” he yells over the crowd and turns to nile to find her actually laughing. “you knew?”

nile has a mischievous and very pleased twinkle in her eyes. “i designed their poster.”

joe wants to ask more but andy ticks off and the band starts playing. and when nicky starts singing joe forgets every language in existence and his poor, just revived heart goes right back into cardiac arrest. he knows nicky can sing, from secretly overhearing him humming to himself as he cleans or cooks, sometimes even coaxing a chorus from him when he plays one of nicky’s favourite songs on the piano, but he never knew he could sing like that. his voice is rougher than joe expected, and so full of conviction and emotion.

“this can’t be true,” he mutters to himself after listening absolutely paralysed to several songs. he starts elbowing his way to the front of the crowd, barely noticing nile hastily following him.

somehow, he manages to reach the edge of the stage and stands there like a still statue in the sea of dancing bodies. they are throwing him strange looks, but he has only eye for one person. nicky, singing his soul out on stage with closed eyes and furrowed brow, moving along with the music and andy’s steady beat. he looks more handsome than joe has ever seen him, with his earrings and his hair falling in his eyes and is that eyeliner he’s wearing?

then nicky opens his eyes, and they immediately find joe, as if he knew he’s standing right there. and he smiles. the bastard smiles at joe. and god, if joe didn’t already know he was hopelessly in love with nicky, then he surely does now.

the music falls back into something calmer, and quynh trades her electric guitar for an acoustic one. nicky’s voice is so heartfelt and vulnerable, joe closes his eyes for a moment, absentmindedly swaying to the melody.

halfway through the song, nicky steps away from the mic stand.

“and if you’d ask me to

I’d spend all my eternities with you”

as he sings this, he kneels right in front of joe and reaches out his hand. and joe stares at it and up at nicky’s eyes and back again as if he’s never seen a hand before. nile elbows him softly in the side and nicky smiles encouragingly at him as he repeats the verses. joe’s hand is trembling as he takes nicky’s, and he blinks to try and clear his suddenly blurred vision. he barely registers the crowd’s cheers as their hands meet, his whole world narrows down to their touch and the man singing before him. for him.

in the guitar solo that follows, nicky leans forward and presses his lips to the back of joe’s hand and all joe can do is hold on for dear life and smile and laugh through escaping tears. after a last squeeze, nicky releases him with a smile. and in the smile, joe catches a glimpse of the quiet and shy man nicky is behind the stage, the nicky he knows so well and has come to love with all his heart.

the rest of the concert goes by in a blissful haze with dancing and singing and yelling at the top of his lungs.

afterwards, nicky finds joe and nile in the bar of the venue. he’s back in his usual simple shirt and jeans outfit and has removed the eyeliner. by the timid way he approaches, nobody would ever guess what a performance he gave mere moments ago.

“i’ll go get some new drinks,” nile says and slips away, smiling and complimenting nicky on her way.

nicky and joe stand in awkward silence for a minute, nicky shifting on his feet, barely daring to meet joe’s eyes and joe observing him with a soft smile.

“working on your thesis, huh?”

nicky chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“why didn’t you just tell me?” joe continues.

nicky swallows. “i think i was scared. of what you would think and that you wouldn’t like it. and i’m not that good of a singer so i was-”

“please tell me you don’t honestly think that,” joe interrupts and takes a step closer. “you were fantastic up there, nicky, absolutely phenomenal.”

nicky glances at joe with that slight smile of his that makes joe’s heart skip a beat every time.

“thank you,” nicky says. “but i’m really sorry, i should have told you. when you asked me to go out, i panicked completely and made such a fool of myself.”

the most endearing embarrassed smile crosses his lips as he rubs his cheek with his hand, so you really can’t blame joe that he takes another step closer and takes that hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the knuckles.

nicky stares at him with wide eyes.

“so does that mean you do want to go out with me?” joe asks, playfully raising one eyebrow.

and the smile that breaks out on nicky’s face is more brilliant than all the spotlights centered on him this evening combined. “yes,” he says, “i would want nothing more.”

what joe wants nothing more is to kiss nicky right then and there, and he probably would have, if nile and the rest of the old guard didn’t appear behind nicky.

“thank god, he knows,” andy says, clapping nicky on the back. “can we now finally ask him to be our pianist?”

#duolingo prompts #joe x nicky #immortal husbands #kaysanova #the old guard #the old guard fanifc #modern au #band au

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alit0my · 3 years

Note

Prompt for JoexNickyxBooker.

For some reason the group thinks Booker died died in exile. Joe and Nicky are completely broken because of it. They blame themselves for not being there to protect him. But Booker's not dead. (obviously 🙃) He's just been taken and his death faked. Maybe they accidentally find him during a different job and feel even worse because they never looked for him. Lots and lots of comfort 💖

This is definitely not exactly what you asked for, but I hope it is close enough! Enjoy!

“Andy, I have some news,” Copley said over the phone. “It’s about Booker.”

“What about him? I only asked for important updates, Copley,” Andy replied, eyeing the safehouse from a distance, noticing the silhouettes of the team peeking through the curtains. There was a pregnant pause before the man finally spoke again.

“I would argue that this is a very important update. He’s dead.”

“I think we should check on him,” Nile said as she finished the final braid in her hair. “It’s been eight years, I think it would be beneficial for everyone.”

“No,” Nicky replied, sipping on his tea as he flicked the page of the current novel he was reading. He glanced at Joe, who was already looking at him, and they shared a wry smile.

“Oh come on, are you not curious as to what he’s been up to?” Nile persisted.

“You say that like you haven’t been having secret conversations with him for the last few years.” Andy stared at her, which made the youngest immortal roll her eyes.

“It fell off around two years ago, I haven’t had a wink of communication with him since then,” Nile sighed. “But it’s fine, I guess.”

Andy watched her for a moment more before her phone beeped with an update on their target’s location. “Hustle up, we got him.”

“What do you mean, he’s dead?”

“I mean, he’s dead, Andy. I got a video of his body sent to me anonymously,” Copley said dejectedly. “I’ve already had it verified. It’s real.”

“Verified by who? Find out who killed him. Better yet, find out where his body is. The least we can do is give him a proper burial.”

By pure chance, they found him.

Booker awoke with a pounding in his head and a growl in his stomach, chains rattled around him as he moved his limbs. He felt the dampness of his environment seep through his clothes before he opened his eyes and he sighed.

‘Ah fuck,’ he thought as he tried to piece together how he got here. ‘Here we go again.’

Hearing footsteps approaching he remained as still as possible, wanting to catch his captors by surprise. The heaviness of the footsteps informed him that it was guards approaching, no doubt for another round of experiments and torture. In a twisted way, he knew this was simply karma catching up to him.

Booker wanted nothing more than for his team to show up and whisk him away back home to safety, but he knew they weren’t coming.

The video of his death was of high quality.

High enough to fool the most tech-savvy person Booker knew in Copley.

So it would have definitely fooled Andy.

“Sit down, I have news,” Andy walked inside the safehouse and stood in front of the fireplace, arms crossed and face set in stone. The other three scrambled to their preferred seats on the sofa, their furrowed brows awaiting the news. Andy sucked in a breath before opening her mouth, forcing her lips not to quiver. “Booker’s dead.”

The air stilled and grew cold, and not just because it was winter. All the life was sucked out of the room as the three immortals on the sofa processed the news, glancing between each other to see if this was a gag anyone was in on.

Nothing gave.

“Andy, don’t play us.” Nile was the first to speak, the two men beside her silent as statues. “There’s no way.”

“There’s a video. Copley verified it. He’s gone,” Andy whispered and turned to the side, hiding her tears. She had always expected to be the first one to die, never having to suffer in this long life without Booker by her side after spending the previous two hundred years together. But now he was gone, and she had to deal with the rest of her life without him by her side.

Joe and Nicky stood up from the couch and excused themselves, leaving the room with haste. Andy paid them no mind. She knew they were wracked with guilt as she shared the news, especially after pushing the exile to a hundred years and hell, she was too. For this to happen to their most reckless member whilst being away from them made them all feel like utter shit.

Andy was going to find Booker’s body and lay it to rest. Preferably in Marseille, next to his long gone wife and children.

It was the least she could do for her fallen friend.

“I told you there was a better way into the compound, Andy!” Joe whispered as he led the team through the dark, moist underground tunnels. “Much more effective than blowing up the front door. You know, considering you don’t know anything about explosives.”

He heard Andy scoff from behind him, amongst the soft thuds of their boots on the concreted ground. “Right. Because the one person who does know something about explosives is fucking dead.”

Silence.

Joe bit his lip and trudged onward. He could not afford to get caught up thinking about Booker when there was a mission to be done. Though, it was his fault for bringing up the man’s area of expertise.

“Light up ahead,” Nicky’s voice pierced his thoughts as they came to a halt. Being this deep underground, Joe could only think they had entered the dungeons, or whatever they called the place they keep prisoners. Dungeon sounded like the right word to describe this archaic setting.

“There’s a body over there,” Joe whispered, his perfect vision noticing the lump of a human form in the darkness, using what light was provided to confirm his suspicions. “I’m going to see if they’re alive.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Nico, Andy said-”

“I know what Andy said. Do you believe her?”

Joe sighed and paced the length of their bedroom, running a hand through his curls. There was no reason not to trust Andy, but they did still have their doubts over Copley’s trustworthiness.

“I do. Why wouldn’t I?” Joe stopped pacing and turned to his love. “He shouldn’t have been all alone.”

Nicky looked back at him and frowned. “One hundred years was too much?”

“Booker is dead, Nicky! Dead-dead! Never coming back, perma-dead! Of course it was too much!” Joe shouted before reeling himself back in. It was their decision to push for the exile, so he had no reason to be this upset. But old memories of their time with Booker haunt them, starting as bedsharing in the middle of a Russian winter and ending as him being a loving part of the relationship. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s alright,” Nicky said, waving off the little outburst before letting his hand fall to his lap. “I think- I need some time to process.. that he’s actually gone.”

Joe walked over to Nicky and wrapped him up in a hug, pulling the man close and hooking his chin over his lover’s shoulder.

It didn’t take long for both men to break down with tears.

As he got closer Joe became suspicious of the body before him; he knew the way it was leaning against the wall, the way the hair fell in front of the face, the way he knew this body like the back of his hand.

Booker.

Booker was in front of him.

With trembling hands, Joe grabbed Booker’s face and tilted it up, the other man groaning and opening his eyes slowly, blinking away the blurriness.

“Joe?” Booker mumbled, his voice gravelly from the lack of use, and Joe crumbled. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around the man and pulled him close, squeezing him tight to his chest. He heard the others approach them, but all he cared about was Booker’s warm body against his and the soft sobs coming from the broken man.

“Hey, Book. Yeah, it’s us. Everyone’s here,” Joe whispered, eyes gazing towards the chains attached to the rock walls. “I- We thought you were dead. For real.”

Booker pulled away from the embrace and looked past Joe, eyes falling on Nicky, then Nile, then Andy, their eyes welling up with tears of their own but their faces remained focused. They were on a mission after all. “Yeah, I know. They showed me the video.”

“We’re going to get you out of here, okay? We need to grab some intel, and hopefully find the keys to your chains, and then we’ll take you home.” Joe grabbed Booker’s face lightly and tilted it to face him, smiling softly as some life returned to the man’s eyes. “We’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Booker wouldn’t dream of it.

“Okay so Copley says this should be an easy intel grab, in and out in less than an hour. We go in at three am and come out just before four. Shouldn’t be too many guards, and if there are then we’ll just take them out. Our entry points are the front door which would need explosives as its reinforced steel, or the back door which has some guard dogs that could alert everyone on site of our presence before we even step a foot onto the grounds,” Andy spoke, leaning over a map of the compound their next mission led them to. The four of them nodded their heads, taking in the information given.

“So no back entrance due to the dogs, but blowing up the front door wouldn’t cause a disturbance?” Nicky asked, leaning down to get a closer look at the map. “I’m sure there has to be another way inside.”

“By all means, Nicky, have a look. Those are the two main ways inside, but you might find a sewer or something we can crawl through, though I really don’t wanna do that,” Andy stated, crossing her arms. “Copley also said there might be prisoners. We should check before we leave.”

“If there are prisoners, maybe there’s a secret entrance to get them in and out?” Joe asked. “We’ll need to scout it before we act, how much time do we have to complete this?”

“We should be in and out within an hour,” Andy said. “Prisoners or not, we gather the intel first, got it?”

“Yes, boss.”

It felt like an eternity, but the group made their way back to Booker, albeit under gunfire. The man flinched as Andy and Nicky hoisted him to his feet and quickly released the shackles from his wrists and ankles before pulling him towards the exit, Nile and Joe quick to follow as they covered the trio from behind.

The road home was hard.

So very hard.

For the captee and his rescuers.

They managed to get back to their safehouse without any further harm, and Booker felt himself being pulled inside and to the bathroom. He doesn’t remember how, but he found himself in the tub surrounded by bubbles and pressed against a hard, warm body. Hands were gently rubbing his arms and torso as he stared into the abyss, thinking of everything yet nothing.

He did not remember the past two years. He did not know that he spent that long in captivity. He did not know that that was how long his family didn’t look for him.

He did not know how that made him feel.

“Booker?” The body behind him whispered, careful not to spook the man. Booker bristled slightly but did not respond. “Booker, are you with us?”

“Leave him be, Nic. Let’s get him clean and warm,” Joe said softly from outside the tub, a hand on Booker’s shoulder. “We can deal with everything later.”

Booker soon found himself in a bed wrapped like a cocoon in blankets, the bed dipping on either side of him. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who the two bodies that joined him were, he knew.

He knew they would have to talk. About his betrayal. About his capture. About them not looking for him. About them.

But that can all wait.

Right now he’s warm, he’s secure, and he’s surrounded by the two people that matter the most to him. All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep away all the exhaustion, all the torture, all the mental anguish of the last two years.

And shit, he was tired.

AO3 Link

#the old guard #booker #ot3 kinda #first fic in a while plz be kind

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monstermaster13 · 1 year

Text

Corey and Oats in…

An Aykroydian Horror Story Adventure.

“You mean those Aykroyd characters you hang out with?”

“Oh you bet.”

“Sounds awesome.”

“Yeah, we hope it is going to be another awesome one.”

“Oh don’t worry, we are going to have an awesome one.”

“Do you mind if we tag along?’

“Of course not, the more the merrier.”

“I did? Well of course I did. I knew you had it in you.”

“Naturally because you’re so extremely intelligent and all.”

“So when is Dan Aykroyd going to show up?”

“Right about now.”

“Dan, I think you should know something about Nathan.”

“Oh I know all right, after all…all horror stories have a twist.”

“Wait, you watch our adventures?”

“On a regular basis. My favorites are the halloween specials and of course the horror museum and Nothingvile.”

“You’re a fan of our adventures, Dan?”

“Oh naturally, of course.”

“

“You know Nathan’s a Were-Aykroyd, Dan?”

“Well yes, of course I do. Who do you think is the one that inspired him? That’s right, me.”

“It makes me so happy to know you like my alter-ego.”

“No problem, Nathan…”

“I know you did an amazing job.”

“I definitely think so.”

“This is way more fun than anything those Simp Central morons could think of.”

“Oh yeah, who needs them? We could start our Aykroyd and horror club.”

“This is definitely an awesome adventure.”

“I’d say so, thanks.”

“No problem, you guys rock.”

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